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Mystery Stories for Boys 


White Fire 





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Natives !” said Johnny in dismay — Chapter XIII 










Mystery Stories for Boys 


White Fire 


5 ^ 

ROY Jf^SNELL 



Chicago 

The Reilly & Lee Co. 


Printed in the United State s' of America 





Copyright, 1922 
b y 

The Reilly & Lee Co. 


All Rights Reserved 


White Fire 

AUG -1 1922 


©CI.A681192 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I The Beginning OF A Mystery 9 

II Johnny's Trap Works 23 

III Johnny Flushes a Skulker 36 

IV A Fight in the Night 48 

V A Strange Test 60 

VI A Wild Race in the Night 72 

VII A Race Across the Desert 90 

VIII The Dust-Eating Mule 101 

IX A Plane in a Typhoon 128 

X The Taste of Salt Sea Water. . .142 

XI Life's Hazard of a Single Glide. .154 

XII Flying Knives 168 

XIII The Mystery Deepens 182 

XIV A Strange Life Boat 197 

XV The Chests Are Found 213 

XVI A Race in Mid-Air 225 



WHITE FIRE 


CHAPTER I 

THE BEGINNING OE A MYSTERY 

Johnny Thompson started, then stared with 
dilated pupils at a spot on the aluminum casting 
before him. The spot, a jagged notch left by 
imperfect work in the foundry, turned first a 
dull red, then a bright red, then a glowing white. 

Mechanically his hand touched the valve of 
his oxy-acetylene torch. Yes, it was as he had 
believed, the acetylene valve was closed. The 
oxygen valve was open, it was true, but the 
drum which had contained oxygen under a 
thousand pounds pressure was empty. In fact, 
he was waiting for the arrival of a new drum. 
That was what made the thing seem strange, 
impossible! It was a miracle, only miracles 
don't happen in such places — he was working 


10 


White Fire 


in the heart of a great industrial plant which 
turned out automobiles in twenty carload lots 
and airplanes by the hundreds. 

Johnny scratched his chin and stared at the 
white spot. True, the nozzle of his torch was 
aimed at that spot; but five minutes before it 
had sput-sputted for a few seconds, then died 
down to an insignificant flame giving too little 
heat for any sort of welding. He had cut that 
flame off, yet now, before his very eyes the metal 
glowed white hot. 

With a grin which said plainer than words, 
I’m dreaming,” he thrust a finger in a can of 
water, then held it over the glowing spot until 
a drop of water fell. 

Instantly he started afresh and stared with 
wilder eyes. There had come the hiss of water 
on white-hot metal. 

‘‘ It’s hot — hot enough to weld ! — no doubt 
about it,” he whispered. '' What in the name of 
all that’s good?” 

Mechanically he lifted a light hammer and 
struck four deft blows. The metal yielded to 


The Beginning of a Mgstery 11 

the touch of the hammer as wax to the seal. 
Still as in a dream he selected a bit of metal and 
dropped it into the niche in the casting. 

Watching it closely, he saw it, too, turn dull 
red, bright red, then glow white. Again his 
hammer fell upon the spot. Deftly he struck it 
here and there until presently no trace of the 
weld remained save the glowing white spot. 

That, too, changed rapidly, first grayish white, 
then light red, then dull red,Then black. 

For a time he watched it, then with a file he 
brushed away the black scar, leaving the cast- 
ing perfect, ready to take its place in a splendid 
chummy roadster. 

A chummy roadster! For a moment, at 
thought of it, Johnny’s mind left the mystery. 
It was to be his chummy roadster, and was to 
cost him only a small fraction of what it would 
cost on the market, for was he not of the salvage 
department? And had not the head of that 
department given him permission to salvage a 
part here, another part there, and another there, 
a few in the foundry, in the forge room, in the 


12 


White Fire 


electrical repair shop, here and there all over 
the factory, until he had all the parts to make a 
complete car, and was he not to pay for the car 
just what the total value of the whole number of 
parts would have been if they had been thrown 
upon the scrap pile? 

A chummy roadster! It was the only bright 
spot that had come upon his horizon since he 
had returned home at the call of a telegram, and 
had arrived to find his home draped in black, 
with noiseless footsteps passing to and fro. His 
father, the father who had been his boyhood 
chum, had left him for other lands. He had 
left, too, through no fault of his, a debt unpaid 
and no estate from which to pay it. 

To Johnny Thompson, who had had many 
adventures but had saved no money, whose soul 
was a soul of honor, this situation called for 
but one thing: Adventures for him must cease. 
He must settle down to hard work and clear off 
the debt which clouded the family's good name. 

Dearly as he loved adventure, much as he 
longed to be away to some untried wilderness of 


13 


The Beginning of a Mystery 

Russia, Africa, South America, he had set his 
teeth tight and had said: 

It is my duty and I will/' 

For a half hour he had permitted his mind to 
dwell upon his thrilling experiences in Russia 
with the Reds " ; in Alaska with Hanada ; be- 
neath the Chicago river with Cio Cio San; with 
Panther Eye and the wild beasts of the jungle. 
All these adventures he had dreamed through 
once more, then he had resolutely turned his 
back upon them and had gone forth in search 
of work. 

Work was not easy to find. Times were dull. 
At last after five days of fruitless search, 
through the kindness of an old friend of his 
father he had secured a place in the salvage 
department of a great automobile and airplane 
factory. This department took parts that had 
been badly forged, or badly cast, and attempted 
to make them perfect, to put them back into the 
line of construction. 

Cutting costs," the aged manager had told 
him. That's what we're after these days. 


14 


White Fire 


Can’t afford to waste a move. And if you can 
help us do that you’ll soon be a valuable man.” 

/‘Not much chance for adventure in sorting 
rusty castings, I guess,” Johnny had smiled, 
“ but I’ll take the job; glad to. Thanks! ” 

“ Now, see here,” the manager had smiled. 
“ It’s queer about that adventure stuff. You 
can’t always dope it out, but sometimes I think 
that if a fellow is destined for adventure he’ll 
find it; yes, even in the heart of a noisy old 
industrial plant.” 

Johnny had smiled and had at once forgotten 
the remark. He had resigned himself to hard 
and grimy toil, and for four months had stuck 
with determination to his job. 

Now that remark came back to him as if he 
were hearing it again : “ If a fellow is destined 
for adventure he’ll find it ; yes, even in the heart 
of a noisy old industrial plant.” Was this 
strange white fire which enabled him to make a 
perfect weld with no oxygen and with his gas 
turned off, the mystery which was to provide 
the adventure destined to come to him? 


The Begvrmmg of a Mystery 15 

He stared about the deserted room. It was 
after hours and no one was in the building save 
Tommy Barr, who had gone for a new tube of 
oxygen. He could discover no possible clue 
which would tell him of the origin of the 
strange white fire. 

He started as there came a metallic click, 
click. Then he smiled. It was Tommy rolling 
the tube over the tile floor. 

'' Tommy,’" he said, “ the funniest thing,"" 
then he paused and turned the remark to another 
subject. He had been about to tell of the 
strange white fire. The mystery is mine,"" was 
his sudden conclusion. I’ll solve it alone.” 

When Tommy had gone for the night, with 
trembling fingers Johnny selected a second de- 
fective casting and set it in the vise as the other 
had been. Eagerly he watched to see what 
would happen. His impatience grew as the 
moments passed, for no dull red glow answered 
his invitation to the unseen source of magic fire. 

'' Guess the spell’s broken,” he mumbled. 

He waited a few minutes longer, then, switch- 


16 


White Fire 


ing on the valves of his torch, he sent a touch 
of blue flame against the defective casting and, 
a few minutes later, threw the now perfect part 
on the rapidly growing pile by his side. 

After that he switched off his torch, snapped 
off the electric light and went home. 

Long before sleep gave his tired eyes rest, 
however, he pondered over the strange doings 
of the mysterious white fire, and well he might, 
for as the days passed that mystery was destined 
to become more intricately complicated, more 
strangely baffling on each succeeding day. 

Arriving at the factory, as was his custom, 
a full ten minutes before work for the day, 
Johnny, next morning, was surprised to find a 
boy waiting for him with a message from Wil- 
liam McFarland, manager of and large stock- 
holder in the plant, his father’s old-time friend. 

‘‘What’s he want, sonny?” Johnny smiled. 

“Don’t know; jes’ wants to see you at the 
office.” 

“ Something to do with that white fire,” was 
Johnny’s mental comment. 


17 


The Beginning of a Mystery 

Johnny/’ said the industrial leader, motion- 
ing him to a chair, '' when I gave you a job in 
our salvage department you said something 
about adventure.” 

Johnny smiled and nodded. 

You’ve had some adventures,” the magnate 
scowled, that ought to have been profitable.” 

How — how?” Johnny stammered. 

‘‘ Don’t matter how I found out. The point 
is you should have saved a lot of money from 
the proceeds of those adventures. Apparently 
you haven’t. There was that gold mine in Si- 
beria; I’m told it was a new Klondike.” 

^^It was, but — ” 

The magnate held up his hand for silence. 

There was also that bag of diamonds you 
rescued from the head of the bolsheviki band. 
Where’d your share of all that disappear to?” 

I never had any share,” Johnny answered. 

In that Siberian gold mine affair I was pledged 
to pay over the profits to a relief committee 
working with the refugees in Vladivostok. In 
the case of the bag of diamonds, it belonged to 


18 


White Fire 


a defenseless Japanese woman and her people. 
I returned it to its rightful owner.’’ 

The magnate sat down. He was smiling. 

That’s the sort of fellow I thought you were — 
a son of your father. Know what broke your 
father?” 

Not — not altogether.” 

“ He was too honest, too good to his employes. 
Sold them stock when things were booming be- 
cause he thought it would be a good thing for 
them. Then, when the slump came and the 
stock went down, down, down, he bought it 
hack at the price they had paid. I think it was 
a mistake. He thought it a point of honor. He 
paid them the last cent and it broke him flat.” 

The capitalist sat staring into space. When 
he spoke again his voice was husky. 

Such men as that are rare. You’re like 
your father. That’s why I took you into our 
shop. I didn’t need you in the salvage depart- 
ment. I do need you now for a far more im- 
portant mission.” He rose and closed the door. 

I need you for a secret mission, one about 


The Beginning of a Mystery 19 

which you must not breathe a word to any liv- 
ing being save myself/’ 

A silence fell over the room; a tense, almost 
vibrant silence. 

‘‘ Johnny,” he put his hand on the boy’s arm, 
we’ve a great discovery within the walls of our 
factory, a discovery to which the formula, for 
the time being, is lost. It is a new type of steel. 
It has the hardness and the flexibility of the 
Damascus sword blade and, like that wonderful 
weapon, its owner cannot tell how it was made.” 

Then what good will — ” 

Mr. McFarland again held up his hand for 
silence. ‘‘ You know, in these days of keen 
competition, manufacturers of motors for air- 
planes and automobiles are bending every effort 
to produce steel that will stand severe tests, that 
will endure strains and over-drive, and will last, 
last!” 

Johnny nodded. 

“ We have such a steel as that, a marvelous 
steel. The man who discovered it is a genius — 
one of our mechanics. Unfortunately, after he 


20 


White Fire 


had produced a few bars of this steel, and be- 
fore he confided the formula to any other 
person, or had discovered ways of working it, 
he broke down from the excitement and over- 
strain. His mind became a blank — a complete 
blank.” 

He paused to stare at the wall, as if in a 
dream. 

And there,” he went on, “ are the bars of 
steel, some only eight inches long, some two 
feet — eight of them. Up to last night, that 
is. Now two of the shorter ones are missing. 
I was very careless. They should have been 
guarded. Competition is very strong, and doubt- 
less a competitor has a spy in our plant. If 
that spy makes away with that steel, if the other 
man discovers the secret formula first and 
secures a patent, you can see what it will mean 
to us.” 

He looked Johnny squarely in the eyes. 
Johnny returned the gaze, but his knees trem- 
bled. He remembered his experience of the 
previous night. He had been the last man to 


The Beginning of a Mystery 21 

leave the factory. Was his employer about to 
accuse him of stealing the precious bars? 

It was a tense moment. For a full thirty sec- 
onds not a sound disturbed the room. At last 
the magnate spoke in a whisper: 

‘^Johnny, from now on it shall be your task 
to guard the six remaining bars, and to dis- 
cover the whereabouts of the two that were 
stolen.’’ 

Johnny’s muscles relaxed like a violin string 
when the bridge falls. 

‘'I — I — ” he leaped from his chair, I’ll 
do my best.” 

I know you will. Now sit down there in 
the corner for fifteen minutes and think out 
some plans for discovering the lost property. 
You don’t need to tell me of the plans, but tell 
me what I can do to aid you.” 

Eight minutes had elapsed when Johnny sat 
up with a start. 

I have it,” he exclaimed. I’d like an 
electro-magnet, a powerful one, leaned against 
the south doorpost to the east exit. I want it 


22 


White Fire 


connected up with switches in such a manner 
that I can operate it at a point where I can 
watch the doorway and not be seen myself. 
The electro-magnet should appear to be merely 
stored there temporarily.’’ 

I’ll have it attended to at once,” said the 
magnate. I wish you luck.” 


CHAPTER II 

JOHNNY^S TRAP WORKS 

Closing time that afternoon found Johnny 
in a cubby-hole just back of the main entrance. 
He was peering through a crack which appeared 
to have been left between the boards by accident. 
It had, in fact, been made for Johnny’s benefit 
that very day. 

He was watching the long line of workmen, 
each swinging in his right hand his paper lunch- 
box, file out of the building. A clicking, turn- 
stile gate allowed only one to pass out at a time. 
The factory had other exits, but this was the 
only one close to the spot where the strange and 
precious steel bars had been stored. 

Beside the narrow board-walk over which the 
single-file line traveled, lay a circular affair of 
iron. Some three feet across and two feet thick, 
it appeared but a crude lump of metal care- 
23 


24 


White Fire 


lessly left there. A close observer, however, 
would have noted that electric wires led away 
from the back of it. This was Johnny’s electro- 
magnet. When suspended in air from a cable 
this innocent-appearing affair could lift a half- 
ton of steel to a freight car platform as easily 
as a child might pick up a handful of straw. 

It isn’t likely that the fellow who took that 
steel would attempt to take it from the building 
at once. He’d hide it in the factory and carry 
it out some other night. Sooner or later I’ll 
get him. Sooner or — ” 

Johnny’s thoughts were cut short by a hand 
lightly laid on his shoulder. 

Thought I’d find you here.” It was his em- 
ployer. Some things in the factory I want to 
show you when the men are gone. They’re 
about out now. I’ll just wait here. Don’t let 
me disturb you.” 

But Johnny had been disturbed; his eyes for 
the moment had been drawn from that passing 
string of men and the electro-magnet. As he 
again focused his eyes on the crack, he gave an 


25 


Johnny Trap Works 

involuntary start. Clinging to the face of the 
electro-magnet as if glued there, was an oblong 
paper box — a lunch-box. And the man who 
owned it? He had passed on out of sight with- 
out any apparent attempt to regain possession 
of his property. 

''Rotten luck!’’ Johnny’s lips framed the 
words but did not say them. The trap had 
worked. There was iron or steel in that box; 
that was why the powerful electro-magnet had 
drawn it to itself. He had recovered the prop- 
erty, but his man had escaped. The precious 
steel was safe. That much was good. He 
heaved a sigh of relief; watched the last work- 
man march by, touched the switch, saw the box 
drop from the magnet as the current was shut 
off, then turned toward the door. 

At this point a doubt came to his mind. What 
if the metal in the box proved to be some other 
metal than the precious steel? He had been 
about to display his catch in triumph. He de- 
cided to make sure first, and so merely said: 
" In just a moment I’ll be ready.” 


26 


White Fire 


Stepping outside, he secured possession of the 
mysterious lunch-box and, carrying it as if it 
were dynamite, again entered the cubby-hole and 
said cheerfully: ^‘All right; I’m ready now.” 

As they walked slowly back into the factory 
Johnny’s eyes turned first to the right, then to 
the left. For the time the baffling mysteries of 
the hour were forgotten, and for the hundredth 
time he was lost in admiration of this marvel of 
modern industry, a vast manufacturing plant. 
Here they passed through the forge-room where, 
by the dull light of dying fires, one might see 
trip-hammers, looming like giants, resting from 
their labors. Now again they passed through a 
sand-strewn room where crater-like heaps were 
smoking — the foundry. And now they 
emerged into the assembly-room, where were 
automobiles partly put together, and further 
down, airplanes poised like giant birds ready for 
flight. 

The things I am to show you to-night ” — 
the voice of his employer roused him from the 
spell which the place had put upon him — '' are 


Johrmy^s Trap Works 


27 


secrets, secrets known only to myself and two 
other men. This factory was rebuilt and en- 
larged during the World War. Our entire out- 
put was then being taken by the Government. 
In those days every precaution was necessary. 
Spies of the enemy were all about us and in our 
very midst, seeking out our most valuable 
secrets, ready to destroy our plants and so crip- 
ple our army. It was such a time as this that 
I had installed in this plant the contrivances 
which I am about to show you and which may, 
perhaps, be of assistance to you. Your work 
from now on will be done at night. You slept 
this afternoon as I instructed?’’ 

Yes.” 

Good. Then you will be all right for to- 
night.” 

Easy,” answered Johnny slangily. 

Now, here,” they had paused in the center 
of an aisle, '' please note your exact position. 
Got it? ” 

Yes.” 

Johnny’s employer nodded approval. 


28 


White Fire 


'' Have you a watch and flashlight? It’s dark 
where you’re going.” 

No flashlight.” In spite of his best efforts, 
Johnny’s knees trembled. 

Here’s a small one. Now prepare yourself 
for a surprise. In five minutes stand up. 
Watch me.” 

The magnate reached up and gave a pull on 
an electric lamp wire just above his head. The 
next instant Johnny felt himself shoot rapidly 
downward, to land at last with no perceptible 
shock upon some flat object. All about him was 
pitch darkness. At once his trembling hand 
snapped on the flashlight. As its welcome gleam 
shot out before him, he saw that he was in a 
narrow, cement-walled chamber. One glance 
downward and his tense muscles relaxed. 

Humph ! ” he grunted. The scrap-con- 
veyor ! ” 

It was true. Beneath this up-to-date factory, 
a tunnel had been cut, through which a broad, 
flat conveyor ran. On this conveyor, from every 
point in the factory, scraps of iron, steel, brass. 


Johnny Trap Works 


29 


cloth, wire, rubber and what-not were carried 
without the lifting of a human hand, direct to 
the scrap-room. 

'' It’s a clever exit, nevertheless,” thought 
Johnny, ‘‘ and worth remembering. ‘ Five min- 
utes,’ he said, ‘ then stand up.’ ” 

Focusing the flashlight on his watch, he 
waited. The conveyor was moving. He could 
see the shadows of cement beams slowly rise 
and pass by him. The place was fairly spooky — 
like a tomb,” he said to himself. It was dead 
still, too. Nothing save the almost noiseless mo- 
tion of the conveyor broke the silence. What 
a spot for a tragedy,” he thought. A fight 
here in the night; the victor escapes; the dead 
body is carried silently on to the scrap-pile.” 

One minute passed, two, three, four. The 
silence grew oppressive. Five! Then came a 
sudden flood of light from above him. Leap- 
ing to his feet, he reached up to the edge of a 
cement floor and vaulted up to it. Silently a 
second trapdoor closed behind him. His em- 
ployer stood beside him. 


30 


White Fire 


Have a nice ride? ’’ he smiled. 

''Fine! A bit spooky, though,’’ Johnny 
grinned back. 

"Could you use it in an emergency?” 

" I think so. It’s the wire of the lamp hang- 
ing directly above it, isn’t it ? ” 

" Right. Works electrically. Pulling that 
wire does the trick. There are some others, 
though. We must hurry on. I have a direc- 
tors’ meeting at eight.” 

The marvels, the tricks of magic which Johnny 
witnessed during the tense half-hour that fol- 
lowed, thrilled, charmed and at times frightened 
him. Now he caught himself leaping aside, as 
if to avoid the blow of a hidden force, and now 
frozen in his tracks, he felt chills race up and 
down his spine, while cold perspiration stood out 
upon his brow. Convinced as he was that he 
was in the hands of a friend, he could not fully 
overcome the spell of this seemingly magic fac- 
tory. While standing idly leaning against a 
wall, he would suddenly become conscious of a 


Johnny Trap Works 


31 


movement in front of him, and there, not three 
feet before him, a second wall towered. Whether 
it had risen from the floor, dropped from the 
ceiling or developed out of thin air, he could not 
tell, so sudden and silent was its motion. Again, 
he was standing talking to his employer and, 
having been attracted by a sound in the distance, 
turned away for an instant, only to find on 
turning again to his friend that he had van- 
ished; the pillar beside which he had been 
standing had swallowed him up. 

After initiating him into the secret mysteries 
of six of these strange devices, his employer 
promised him more in the future, then took him 
over to the front of a massive vault built into 
the wall of the factory. 

'' Here,'’ said Mr. McFarland, we keep our 
most valuable tools and the diamonds used in 
giving to shaftings their finishing touches. Here 
also rest the six bars of steel of the mysterious, 
unknown formula. We hope soon to rediscover 
that formula, or that its inventor, through the 


32 


White Fire 


agencies of the doctor of the sanitarium, will 
be restored to his normal mind and memory. 
An old and trusted employe presides over the 
vault during the day. It will be your task to 
guard it nights. At any time you feel yourself 
in danger, there are the secret doors, walls and 
passages I have shown you. They may be of 
great service to you in securing aid, if it is 
needed. And now I must bid you good night.’’ 

Good night.” Johnny’s own voice, as if 
coming from a cavern, sounded hollow to him. 

As his employer disappeared from sight, how- 
ever, he shook himself and attempted to remem- 
ber something he had postponed, something of 
which his subconscious memory was striving 
to tell him. 

Suddenly he started. 

The box ! That lunch-box caught by the 
electro-magnet ! ” 

The next instant he was hastening away to 
the cubby-hole where the box still rested. 

As he put his hand to the door, a sinking feel- 
ing seized him. What if it were gone? The 


Johnny’s Trap Works 


33 


next instant found him reassured; with the 
handle of the box in his own rig*ht hand, he was 
hurrying back to his post of duty. 

But what was that ? Had his well-trained ear 
caught the sound of a footstep? With heart 
beating double-time, he stood in the shadow of 
a great punch-press and listened. Yes, there it 
was; a stealthy, gliding footstep. 

Stooping, with a silent, tiger-like motion he 
crept forward until the steel door of the vault 
was within his view. There, in the shelter of a 
milling machine, he paused and crouched motion- 
less as a cat. 

He did not have long to wait, for out of the 
shadows there crept the dark, crouching form 
of a man. 

Direct as an arrow the man glided forward. 
Now he was ten feet from the steel door, and 
paused to listen. Two steps more, and a second 
pause. And now his hand was nearing the shin- 
ing metal knob that controlled the combination 
lock of the vault. Again he appeared to listen. 

At that second, Johnny’s eyes fairly popped 


34 


White Fire 


out of his head — a strange thing was taking 
place. The knob which had been white in the 
semi-darkness, had turned a dull red! 

The mysterious fire I ’’ he whispered, almost 
aloud. 

The next instant there came a strange hissing 
cry of pain. The person crouching there, with- 
out noting the red glow, had grasped the knob. 

For a second he appeared to study the knob; 
then, without as much as looking backward, he 
turned and darted away. 

Frozen in his tracks, Johnny stood staring at 
the knob until the red glow had faded out and 
the knob shone white once more. 

A long time he stood there, his mind rife with 
wild wonderings. What was this white fire? 
Whence its origin? Johnny was not supersti- 
tious; he felt that some human being was back 
of it all. But that human being, was he friend 
or foe? If friend, then he had frightened the 
enemy away! If enemy, then he had known of 
Johnny’s presence and had used this means to 
warn his confederate. 


Johnny Trap Works 


35 


Presently, when his mind was again composed, 
he thought of the lunch-box and with trembling 
fingers reached down to lift it from the floor. 

What would it disclose? How would its 
contents affect the mystery he was trying to 
solve ? 

Johnny drew a deep breath, and grinned hap- 
pily. 


CHAPTER III 

JOHNNY FLUSHES A SKULKER 

Trembling with suppressed excitement, his 
brow deeply furrowed, Johnny lifted the lid to 
the lunch-box, then stared in surprise and dis- 
gust. The box contained, not the precious steel 
bars of unusual and as yet unknown composi- 
tion, but a small twist drill, worth, perhaps, a 
dime. For a moment he stared at the thing, 
then picked it up and thrust it into his pocket. 

Sneak thief ! Petty larceny of the pettiest 
kind. But, anyway. I’ll report it to the chief. 
He may want to do something about it.” 

The rest of that night, waiting in the shadow 
of a gigantic sheet-steel press, in full view of 
the vault where rested the remaining bars of 
steel, Johnny saw no movement, heard no sound 
that told him there were other human beings in 
the building save himself and the regular night 
36 


Jolfinwy Flushes a Skulker 37 

watchman, who made his monotonous hourly 
rounds, pausing only to punch a clock here and 
there. But motionless and silent as they might 
be, Johnny knew there were at least two persons 
in that building who were there without leave 
or license. 

To attempt to run down a single individual 
in the vast plant, with its labyrinth of aisles, with 
thousands of machines, drill presses, millers, 
forges, moulders, cranes, conveyors, with its 
seemingly tangled mass of overhead equipment 
and its endless underground tunnels, would be 
equal to the task of capturing a fish with a 
hand-net on the bottom of the Atlantic. To 
discover the person would be almost impossible, 
and even if he were discovered, his capture 
would be difficult indeed. Only the best of good 
fortune could crown such an effort with success. 

Johnny knew there were two men. One was 
he who had attempted to tamper with the vault’s 
lock, and the other was the originator of the 
mysterious white fire. That the fire was pro- 
duced by electric currents set to operate upon 


38 


White Fire 


certain given contacts, Johnny could not believe. 
In the case of the knob to the vault’s door, this 
might be true, but in that of the aluminum cast- 
ing such a theory was impossible, for Johnny 
knew there could have been no prearranged 
electrical contacts. 

The casting had been on the floor. Johnny 
had lifted it to his vise and had clamped it there. 
No one had been near it, save he himself, from 
that time until the mysterious heat had enabled 
him to do the work of repair by welding. How 
could the heat have come there ? That, he could 
not tell. Who had created it? He could not 
even guess. What had been the purpose in 
either case? Was he friend or enemy? What 
would be his next strange demonstration of 
power? All these remained unanswered. Of 
one thing alone Johnny was positive: The 
person had been in the building and was there 
still. 

The thought made him distinctly uncomfort- 
able. Why,” he thought suddenly, ‘‘ if he is 
our enemy, he has but to burn out the lock to 


Johnny Flushes a Skulher 39 

the vault and the door will swing open of its 
own weight ! ’’ 

Then he thought of himself. He had an un- 
comfortable conviction that this heat might be 
applied anywhere — on his own body, like as 
not. At times he saw himself racing about the 
factory tortured by an intolerable heat which 
turned his garments to ashes and charred his 
very flesh. At such times as these he rose and 
shook himself free from disturbing fancies. 

He tried in vain to remember any great dis- 
covery which would make such intense detached 
heat possible. He could think of none. 

‘^It’s a discovery! A great discovery!” he 
whispered at last, ‘‘and the discoverer, instead 
of bettering the world with it, is playing with it 
just to make one person most awfully uneasy 
and unhappy. And yet,” he paused to think, 
“and yet he did send that chap gliding away 
from the vault door as if his life depended 
upon it.” 

In spite of all his forebodings, nothing fur- 
ther disturbed the vast silence of the night, and 


40 


White Fire 


Johnny was ready, upon the arrival of his em- 
ployer in the morning, to make his report. He 
had decided to tell of the lunch-box and twist 
drill episode, but to say nothing, for the pres- 
ent, of the strange white fire. He felt that 
his employer would simply be perplexed and dis- 
turbed by this news, without in any way offer- 
ing a contribution to the solution of the prob- 
lem. This was an affair which a single indi- 
vidual might best work upon alone. 

No,” said his employer, as Johnny dis- 
played the small twist drill and told how he 
came into possession of it, ‘‘we’re not, as you 
have already suggested, interested in that sort 
of thing. If there is a sneak-thief in our fac- 
tory, he will receive his just deserts in due 
time, and that with no assistance from us. Our 
factory is run on the honor plan. Every man 
is put upon his honor. If he proves unworthy 
of the trust, his fellow-workmen will find it 
out first of all, and, since the honor of the 
entire group is at stake, they will request him 
to mend his ways or draw the pay due him 


Johnny Flushes a Skulker 41 

and leave. It is useless for him to attempt to 
deceive them. He must be on the square or 
get out. 

In this case/’ he smiled, it is probably 
not a case of theft at all; it is very probable 
that this drill was borrowed by the workman 
for some work at home, with the consent of 
his foreman.” 

Johnny blushed uncomfortably. 

‘‘ Your plan, though,” the manager hastened 
to assure him, is a good one. Keep it up, 
and you may catch something yet. 

I have said,” he went on, that we are 
not interested in petty thefts. We are not. 
This perhaps makes you wonder that you are 
employed as you are at the present time. But 
this is quite another matter. The taking of 
those two bars of steel, insignificant as they 
may seem — a few pounds in all — is of great 
importance to us, since, as I have explained 
to you, it may mean the revealing of a valuable 
secret. 

The question of one’s right to keep a com- 


42 


White Fire 


mercial secret is a delicate one. From a moral 
standpoint it depends entirely upon the type of 
secret. Unquestionably there are some secrets 
which no one has a right to keep. Many great 
secrets have been thrown open to the world 
as soon as they are discovered. Radium is a 
case in point. If our nation were at war with 
some other nation at the present time, it would 
undoubtedly be our duty to share our secret 
steel process, should we be so fortunate as to 
unravel all its mysteries, with the Government. 
Since we are not at war, it does not appear 
to be our duty. 

The law allows us to retain our secret until 
it has been patented. However, if another 
should discover it, we would hardly be in a 
position to claim a share in the patent right, 
since no one can prove that the other person 
did not possess the secret first. 

‘‘ You will see then, that any person who 
attempts to discover our secret can hardly be 
classed as a criminal; he is simply playing the 
game in a rather unfair way. There have been 


Johnny Flushes a Skulker 


43 


secrets enough carried from one manufacturing 
plant to another. Retaining one's commercial 
secrets and reaping advantages from them is 
part of the romance of business. You will 
find few manufacturing plants, big or little, 
but have their secrets. In one with the magni- 
tude of our own there are many secrets; the 
one you are guarding is but one of them." 

But — " Johnny began, then hesitated. 

''But what? Come on; let's hear what's on 
your mind." 

" Don't you think it's really one's duty to 
give the whole world the benefit of his secrets ? " 

" In time, yes. But not at once, unprotected 
by patents. We have spent a great deal of 
money in discovering these secrets. We have 
a right to get that money back with a fair 
profit." 

" I see," said Johnny. 

" And you are ready to go on with the 
search ? " 

" Yes." 

" Good. Report to me when there is any 


44 


White Fire 


new development. Good morning, and better 
luck next time.” 

That night the electro-magnet trap caught 
nothing. Johnny went to work with a sense 
of defeat disturbing his usually well-composed 
mind. Had the two bars of steel been carried 
at once from the factory, and were his well- 
laid plans to come to naught? Would the steel 
be tested and analyzed, the formula discovered, 
and patented by the intruder? 

At least,” he told himself, '' I can guard 
securely that which is left. 

'' Mr. Jordan,” he said to the aged keeper 
of the vault by day, as he came to take his post 
for the night, can’t they work that steel as 
it is?” 

What steel ? ” The old man gave him a 
sharp look. 

You know,” Johnny smiled. 

'' Oh ! ” the Other laughed. '' No, it doesn’t 
seem to respond properly to the heat they have 
tried on it ; it crumples up like mud when they 
try to work it. And when it comes to analyz- 


Johnny Flushes a Skulker 45 

ing it, there’s an element or two they don’t 
understand. It’s as if the stuif was from a 
meteor dropped out of the sky.” 

Johnny thought of these things on the watch 
that night. I’d like to have" a piece to experi- 
ment with,” he told himself. This white fire, 
now; I wonder how that would affect it. Fine 
chance to try that,” he laughed to himself. 

First place, no steel; second place, no white 
fire.” 

A week passed with no reappearance either 
of the mysterious white fire or the stranger 
who had attempted to tamper with the lock 
of the vault. Johnny was growing uneasy. It 
was true that his pay had been increased enough 
to enable him to put away a generous sum at 
the end of the week toward the paying of his 
debt of honor. But the task was growing 
monotonous, and, besides, there was no oppor- 
tunity to work on his chummy roadster that 
was to have been built up from salvage. 

But one dark night, when the wind was 
banging at the steel-framed windows of the 


46 


White Fire 


plant, and rain beat upon the skylights in great 
torrents, adventure came stalking his way in 
the form of a crouching, skulking human who 
made his way, all oblivious of Johnny hidden 
by the shadow of a forge, to a dark corner 
of the forge-room, where he rattled about 
in a pile of imperfect forgings. He had just 
turned and was about to skulk away when 
Johnny’s lips framed a word. 

The word was not uttered, for like a flash 
it came to him that in that particular spot 
there was no opportunity to head the man off 
and capture him. 

He thought of the strange entrance to the 
scrap-conveyor tunnel which had been shown 
him by his employer. The conveyor was not 
running. Once he had dropped down upon it, 
he could stoop and run forward upon its sur- 
face some two hundred feet. He would then 
come out at a place in the direction in which 
the man was going. In that spot a trick-wall 
might be made to rise and head him off. He 
would be trapped! 


Johnny Flushes a Skulker 47 

A few silent steps and Johnny was upon 
the spot above the scrap-conveyor. His hand 
went up to the light wire. Straight down he 
dropped. The next minute he was racing along 
the conveyor. 

At the end of this race he took a long breath 
and waited. There would be a struggle, he 
knew that. The best man would win; there 
was no one to aid. 

With a sharp intake of breath, he touched 
a button, a trap flew open. With a leap he 
cleared the opening and fell sprawling. His 
estimate of time had failed him. The skulking 
stranger had tripped over him and they had 
gone down together! 


CHAPTER IV 
A FIGHT IN THE NIGHT 

Johnny Thompson was as nearly as possibk 
a perfect physical being. Having been taught 
from childhood the necessity of physical well- 
being and muscular prowess to the business 
man as well as to the mechanic or professional 
athlete, he had kept himself fit and had never 
neglected an opportunity to learn some new 
trick or turn on the wrestling mat or gymnasium 
floor. 

In the struggle that followed the collision 
there in the dark aisle of the factory neither 
Johnny nor the stranger had the advantage of 
anticipating attack. Both had been surprised. 

Johnny soon learned that his antagonist was 
no ordinary person. Seizing the man by the 
feet, Johnny clamped on with a grip of iron. 
But to his utter surprise the man gave the 
48 


A Fight in the Fight 


49 


sudden twist of a professional contortionist, 
and came up between his own knees, clawing 
at Johnny’s face like a cat. 

Loosing his hold Johnny made a sudden grab 
for the other’s waist, but in that fraction of 
a second the man took a sudden double back- 
ward somersault, and leaping to his feet, dashed 
away. 

Instantly Johnny was up and after him. He 
was dashing along at full speed, making a good 
gain at every leap, when of a sudden he banged 
into a perpendicular wall. The wall was rising. 
It lifted Johnny some four feet in air to dash 
him to the floor again. 

‘^The fake wall!” he muttered, astonished. 
Had the other runner known of this trap and 
had he sprung it? Or had it been an accident? 

There was not a moment to lose. Dashing 
back the way he had come, he rounded a pillar 
and was again in full pursuit. 

The stranger was now far ahead of him, just 
rounding a corner to enter the loading-room. 

Through this loading-room, which was a full 


50 


White Fire 


block in length and two hundred feet in width, 
there ran a double railway switch. This switch 
was filled with freight cars, some empty, many 
loaded with raw material, bales of rubber-cloth, 
bars of steel, bundles of wire. If the man 
chose to lose himself among these cars the pur- 
suit was at an end. Johnny pressed on; there 
was a chance that the great doors at the farther 
end stood ajar, and that the man would attempt 
escape at once. 

As he rounded the corner, Johnny saw that 
the doors were ajar and that, a third of the 
way down the long unloading platform, a slim 
figure was fleeing. 

“ Can’t do it. Got to try, though,” he panted, 
as he sped along. 

Suddenly he became conscious of a chain 
dangling just before him. It seemed to him that 
there came a slight jangle from that chain. 
Yes, now he saw it lift, then drop a foot or 
two. What could it mean? Now it moved 
forward a yard and stopped. 

The chain was within his reach. Acting 


A Fight in the Night 


51 


from instinct rather than reason, he grasped it, 
thrust his foot in the loop at the bottom, and 
the next minute, with a grinding roar sounding 
above him, he felt himself shoot forward at 
a terrific speed. 

The chain was attached to a huge traveling 
crane. This crane, which was a steel beam 
swung from wall to wall of the structure and 
running on iron wheels along a steel rail set 
at the very top of the wall, fifty feet above, 
was electrically operated from a small ca.b\ that 
hung just beneath it. 

Johnny looked up at the cab. He could see 
no person there. Darkness might account for 
that, but all the same he felt a cold chill creep 
up his spine. Was this, after all, a charmed 
factory? Had he, all unknown to himself, been 
moved to some enchanted city where heat, with 
no apparent origin, melted metals, and where 
giant cranes ground their way at express-train 
speed with no one to guide them? He was 
tempted to think so. 

But cold reality brought him back to his 


52 


White Fire 


senses. Dangling from a chain, he was rap- 
idly approaching a man who was doing his 
utmost to escape. What if that man were 
armed? A wonderful target he would make, 
dangling there in mid-air! 

Cold perspiration stood out on his furrowed 
brow. His knees seemed about to sink from 
beneath him. He swung one foot free, and 
began whirling about to give the chain a side- 
wise pendulum motion that he might prove a 
poorer target. 

Meanwhile, the stranger did not turn to look 
back. The very thunder of the traveling crane 
appeared to lend new speed to his limbs. Per- 
haps he imagined the entire place to be swarm- 
ing with men engaged in pursuing him. A 
surprised look overspread his face, as Johnny, 
not three feet to the right of him, swung past. 

The man instantly dodged back and dropped 
to the floor, but Johnny, leaping from his iron 
swing, was upon him before he could get to 
his feet again. 

There followed a second struggle similar to 


A Fight in the Night 


53 


the first. This stranger was a contortionist, 
there could be no question about that now. 
Before three minutes had elapsed, he had again 
wriggled like an eel from Johnny’s grasp and 
had dashed through the door to freedom. 

In disgust, Johnny sat up and dabbed at some 
scratches on his face which were bleeding. 

Never saw anything like that,” he grumbled. 
Above him the traveling crane hung in im- 
pressive silence. He gazed up at the driver’s 
cab. All was motionless there. But what 
was that? Did he see one of the landing doors 
on the fourth floor open a crack, then close 
again? He thought so, but in the pale moon- 
light that streamed in through the windows he 
could not be sure. 

Fate seems to mock at a fellow sometimes,” 
he mumbled. Look at the luck I had, that 
trip on the crane and everything, and then 
look at the luck I didn’t have ; he got away ! ” 
He moved a foot to rise, and something 
jangled beside it. 

What? ” 


54 


White Fire 


He put out his hand and took up a bar of 
steel. For a second he flashed a light upon it. 
His heart beat wildly ; the steel was blue — the 
bluest steel he had ever seen. 

‘‘ It’s one of the stolen bars,” he muttered. 

Lost it out of his pocket.” 

A careful search showed him that the second 
one was not there. Then suddenly he remem- 
bered that he was a long way from his main 
trust — the vault where reposed the remaining 
six bars. Rising hurriedly, he went racing back 
to the center of the factory where the vault 
was located. 

Arrived at the corner of the forge-room he 
paused and peered away through the darkness 
to a point where a small light shone above the 
vault door. He half-expected to see a figure 
crouching there. There was no one in sight. 
Once more the aisles of machines, conveyors and 
tunnels appeared deserted. Strain his eyes and 
ears as he might, he caught only the din of 
the storm beating on the cupolas above the 
forge-room and an occasional flash of lightning. 


55 


A Fight in the Night 

Seating himself on a fireless forge, he leaned 
back against its smoke conveyor and rested. 
The double struggle, the race, the strange 
occurrences of the night, had unnerved him. 
He started at every new blast of the wind, 
fancying it the move of some new intruder. 

He was puzzled. Who could have been 
present to give him that fast ride on the chain 
of the traveling crane ? Surely not a watchman ; 
these men knew nothing about traveling cranes; 
indeed, few men did. The manipulating of these 
huge burden-bearers, capable of carrying a 
loaded box-car from one end of the unloading 
room to the other, was a delicate and difficult 
task. There were scores of levers and switches 
to operate, scores of motions to memorize, yet 
this man, whoever he was, had shown a compe- 
tent control of the massive machine. Who 
could he have been? 

He thought again of the bar of secret-process 
steel which he had now in his possession. Only 
a few days before he had wished for a particle 
of that steel that he might test it. Now he had 


56 


White Fire 


in his possession a whole bar of it, yet how 
was he to secure a sample for testing? Only 
a minute particle was needed, but how was that 
to be obtained? 

He was seized with a sudden desire to try 
his skill on this strange metal. He had learned 
a little of steel-testing while in the salvage 
department. Not sixteen feet from the point 
where he now sat there was a branch laboratory 
for testing steel. All the equipment for testing 
it was there. There was only lacking the tiny 
particle of steel. 

Taking the bar from his pocket, he turned 
it over and over. He struck it on an anvil 
and enjoyed the bell-like ring of it. He held 
it to the light and studied the intense blue of it. 
Never before in the history of the world had 
there been such steel, he was sure of that. 

Laying the bar down upon the cinders of the 
forge, he took a little circle around the forge- 
room to stand at last gazing at the door of the 
vault. 

Some faint sound caused him to turn about. 


57 


A Fight in the Night 

At once his gaze was fixed on the forge where 
the steel bar was resting. The red glow of 
fire was on the forge. The coal was on fire. 
One end of the bar glowed with a peculiar white 
light ! 

His first thought was that there had been 
matches lying on the forge, and that they had 
been accidentally lighted, setting ofif the coal. 
This theory was quickly abandoned. Coal didn’t 
start burning that easily. 

Then, remembering the old vault-keeper’s re- 
mark, It doesn’t seem to take the heat right. 
Gets all sort of crumbly when it’s been heated,” 
he dashed for the forge, seized a pair of tongs, 
and drew the piece of metal from the fire. It 
slipped from the tongs and fell upon the cement 
floor with a dull thud. 

In an agony of fear lest the steel had been 
ruined he seized a hammer and cold chisel and, 
placing the edge of the chisel against the still 
white-hot surface, struck it sharply with the 
hammer. 

A thin circle of steel coiled up about the edge 


58 


White Fire 


of the chisel, then dropped to the floor. 

'' Nothing the matter with that steel,’’ he 
muttered, as he watched the white heat slowly 
fade to a bright red, then dull red, then black, 
but one thing. I’ll wager : That was our old 
friend the * white fire ’ once more.” 

He glanced about him apprehensively, as if 
fearing to see glowing eyes staring at him from 
the dark, but all he saw was a fresh flash of 
lightning followed by a burst of thunder. 

Looking down, his eyes were caught by the 
thin coil of steel cut from the bar. It was cool 
now and blue almost to transparency. He 
picked it up and dropped it again, to see it 
bounce ten inches from the floor. 

Nothing the matter with that steel,” he 
repeated. 

Then a new thought struck him. 

'' Why, that — that bit of coiled steel is my 
particle for testing.” 

Touching the bar of steel he found it still 
hot. Waiting impatiently for it to cool, he 
paced the floor, his eye first on the vault-door, 


A Fight in the Night 


59 


then on the precious steel. What if he were to 
be successful in his analysis of the steel? That 
would be a great honor, indeed. 

Retracing his steps to the side of the forge, 
he once more tested the steel bar. Finding it 
cool enough, he thrust it into his pocket, picked 
up his bit for testing, and strode away to the 
laboratory, where through a window he could 
keep watch of the vault door. 




CHAPTER V 
A STRANGE TEST 

On a work bench before the window in the 
laboratory there rested an instrument the like 
of which Johnny had never seen before enter- 
ing the factory for work. The main body of 
it was a black drum about a foot long and 
ten inches in diameter. Out from this drum 
there ran a tube which, bending first this way, 
then that, passed into a bottle, then out of it 
into a second, then out again and so on until 
six or eight bottles had been included in its 
route. 

'' Let’s see,” said Johnny. '' This one catches 
the carbon, this one, tungsten, this, water vapor, 
this, iron, and so on. Guess the thing’s all set 
for taking off the different known elements 
that are likely to be found in any steel. But 
how about those unknown elements? Here’s 


60 


A Strange Test 


61 


a wild shot in the dark/’ Taking down three 
bottles from the wall, he poured a little from 
each into a fourth bottle. He then replaced 
the three bottles and, by the aid of two short 
tubes, inserted the bottle he had just filled into 
the circuit running from the drum. Repeating 
the operation with a new set of bottles he added 
a second bottle to the circuit. 

There,” he smiled, ‘‘ if there are any strange 
atoms floating around, those ought to give them 
a home. Now for it ! ” 

Pushing open a slide in the side of the drum 
he adjusted his bit of steel in a position 
between two electrical poles and directly before 
a small nozzle. He then shut the drum, turned 
on a switch which started a low snapping sound 
inside the drum, turned a valve which set a 
slight roar resounding within the drum, then 
sat back to watch. 

Presently a greenish gas could be seen pass- 
ing along inside the glass tube. 

Working ! ” he smiled. Pretty slick ar- 
rangement ! Electric spark sets fire to the 


62 


White Fire 


metal, oxygen feeds the flame. Burn up any- 
thing that way. That gas was the hardest, most 
flexible steel in the world a moment ago.” 

As he sat there watching the process go 
forward, hearing the hum and snap inside the 
drum, now and then catching the roll of thunder 
from the storm that raged outside, he thought 
of the three Shakespearean witches and their 
steaming caldron. He liked to think of himself 
as a modern wizard with his smoking electrical 
caldron. 

But something caught his eye. The color of 
the liquid in one of the bottles of chemicals he 
had mixed at random was turning from white 
to a dull brown as the gas from burning steel 
passed through. 

Catching something! ’’ he ejaculated. '' Won- 
der what it may be ? ” 

For ten more minutes he sat watching. Then, 
when all the gas had apparently passed off he 
turned the valve, threw out the switch, and 
sat there lost in thought. 

It was interesting, this experiment. This 


A Strange Test 


63 


instrument had always fascinated him. He felt 
that it might be that he had made a discovery. 
But thus far he could go, no farther. Of chem- 
ical analysis he knew nothing. Already he had 
made a vow with himself that, as soon as his 
debt of honor was paid, he would begin some- 
where, somehow, a study of those sciences which 
were so closely related to industry — chemistry, 
metallurgy, engineering, mechanics, physics. 

But now he was stuck. He had never really 
been given permission to work in the laboratory 
alone at night and he was loath now to admit 
he had done so. 

Oh, well,’’ he sighed, probably nothing 
to it, anyway. I’ll just label you and put you 
up here for the present.” He scrawled a few 
words on a label, pasted it to the bottle contain- 
ing the dull brown liquid, then set it upon an 
upper shelf. 

Some day,” he smiled, perhaps I’ll have 
the nerve to tell Mr. Brown about it, but not 
now.” Brown was the head of the laboratory. 

He went out into the aisle and began walking 


64 


White Fire 


slowly up and down before the vault. He was 
sleepy and tired. This night work was telling 
on him. 

Wish it was over with,” he muttered. 
‘‘ Anyway,” he smiled, ‘‘ Fve got something to 
show them this time,” and he patted the steel 
bar in the right-hand pocket of his blouse. 

‘‘ You say someone drove the traveling crane 
down the loading-room and helped you chase 
that man ! ” the manager exclaimed next day 
after Johnny had told the story of his queer 
night’s adventures. “ That seems incredible ! ” 

‘‘ Maybe so, but it’s true ! ” 

There are only three men in our employ 
who can run that crane and they, I am sure, 
were not there.” 

Johnny smiled. Can’t explain it; all I know 
is, it’s true.” 

I’ll put a double guard on the place. Can’t 
have things going on like that.” 

Johnny smiled again. He had told of the 
double struggle with the snake-like adversary. 


65 


A Strange Test 

of the chase, of the ride on the traveling crane, 
and the recovery of one steel bar, but had not 
mentioned the ‘‘ white fire nor the steel test 
he had made. Whafs the use? ’’ he had asked 
himself. '' Who'd understand a thing like that 
‘white fire’?’’ 

“ Well,” said his employer, “ I’m glad you re- 
covered one of the bars; I only wish you had 
secured the other. One may do us all the harm 
possible.” 

“ You never saw such a man,” Johnny half- 
apologized. “ Like an eel, he was, a regular 
contortionist. I’ve handled a lot of fellows, but 
never one like him.” 

“ It wasn’t your fault,” Mr. McFarland reas- 
sured him. “ You did better work than many 
persons twice your age might have done. Well,” 
after a moment’s thought, “you keep that bar 
until this evening, then, when you go to work, 
give it to Marquis and have him put it in the 
vault. Your work will be as before until further 
orders.” 

Johnny was disappointed. He had hoped to 


66 


White Fire 


be relieved from this task, which would grow 
doubly monotonous since it was definitely known 
that the remaining bar of steel had been carried 
from the factory. He managed to conceal his 
disappointment, however, and went his way, to 
sleep the day through with the bar of steel 
beneath his pillow. 

He did not return the bar to Marquis, the 
day keeper of the vault, as he had been in- 
structed to do. When Johnny arrived he found 
the vault locked, its keeper gone. 

Well, old precious one,’’ he smiled, patting 
the bar of metal, '' it’s one more night in my 
company for you, whether you like it or not.” 

It was that same night, in the long, silent 
hours just following midnight, that something 
happened that was destined to change the entire 
course of Johnny Thompson’s life. He was 
sleepy — sleepier than usual, for his sleep had 
been broken into that day. 

If only I had another shaving off that steel 
bar,” he thought to himself, '' I’d do that ex- 
periment again, and try for a different result.” 


A Strange Test 


67 


As if expecting the miracle to repeat itself, 
he walked to the forge-room and placed the bar 
of steel on the little heap of coals at the center 
of the same forge that had burned so mysteri- 
ously the previous night. 

Then with a laugh, which told plainer than 
words that he thought he was kidding himself, 
he turned and strolled away down the aisle 
among the forges. 

No room held such an endless fascination for 
him as this forge-room. In the day, especially 
toward evening when the outer light was fail- 
ing, when the forge fires burned brightly, and 
the white hot metal on the dies glowed at each 
stroke of the massive hammers, when the 
whang-whang-whang of steel on steel raised a 
mighty clamor, then it was a place to conjure 
about. But even now, in the dead still of the 
night, the powerful hammers resting from their 
labor, the long line of forges with fires burned 
out spoke to him of solemn grandeur and dor- 
mant power. 

He had just made the length of the room 


68 White Fire 

and had turned about when from his lips there 
escaped a muffled cry. 

Instantly he broke into a run. Once more, 
as on the previous night, the forge on which 
the steel bar lay was a mass of white and red 
fire. 

By the time he had reached the spot, the 
bar of metal was a glowing white mass from 
end to end. 

His first thought was to seize the tongs and 
drag the bar from the forge to the floor; his 
second was a bolder one. It caused his heart 
to thump loudly, his breath to come quickly. 

Dared he do it? 

He put his hand to an electric switch by the 
side of the trip-hammer nearest the forge. The 
answer was a snap and a spark. 

'' Current’s on,” he murmured. I could do 
it. Old McPherson taught me how when I was 
in the salvage department — but dare I ? ” 

To the lower surface of the hammer was 
attached a nickel-steel die. To the surface on 
which it fell was bolted another. The two 


A Strange Test 


69 


matched. A white-hot bit of steel placed upon 
the lower die at just the right spot, then struck; 
then moved and struck again ; moved and struck 
two times more, would be no longer a clumsy 
bar of steel, but a rough-finished connecting-rod 
for an automobile. The white-hot bar of steel 
before him was just the right length and thick- 
ness. Dared he do it? 

As in a dream, he seized the metal with the 
tongs, lifted it, swung it about to the proper 
position on the nickel-steel plate, touched a pedal 
with his foot, heard the whang of steel on 
steel, saw the hammer rise again, moved the 
white-hot metal, touched the pedal, heard the 
whang again; twice more repeated the opera- 
tion, then tossed the bit of metal, still glowing 
white-hot, upon the sanded floor ; a perfect con- 
necting-rod as to shape — but as to composi- 
tion? His breath came hard. Had the bit of 
metal been spoiled in the heating and the forg- 
ing? And, if it had, how could he ever square 
himself? 

To quiet his wildly beating heart he took a 


70 


White Fire 


turn about the factory, then returned to the 
forge-room. He was just re-entering the forge- 
room when something caught his eye. What 
was it? Had his eye deceived him, or had he 
caught sight of a furtive figure dodging behind 
the sheet-metal press over at the right? In a 
moment he would investigate, but first he must 
make sure that the newly forged connecting- 
rod of priceless steel was safe. 

Quickly his heart beat as he lifted the now 
thoroughly cooled steel, and allowed it to fall 
upon the cement floor. 

Sounds like real steel,’’ he exulted. 

He picked it up and examined it closely. 
‘‘ Not a flaw. And real steel — the best steel 
on earth — and I forged it! But how?” He 
paused, a puzzled look overspreading his face. 
^‘How shall I tell them I heated it? What 
good will one forging do with no means of 
forging more?” 

Oh, well ! ” he murmured, at last, I’ll tell 
them, anyway. And now,” dropping the con- 
necting-rod in his pocket, ^"the next thing is 


A Strange Test 


71 


something else. I wonder what it will be ! ’’ 

He left the forge-room and walked cautiously 
toward the sheet-metal press. 

As he neared it, a dark object, like some wild 
animal leaping from its hiding-place among the 
crags, leaped out, and away. 

Who was this? Was it his contortionist- 
enemy returned in hopes of retrieving the lost 
bar, or was it some other intruder? 

Johnny did not waste time on idle questions, 
but sprang away in hot pursuit. 


CHAPTER VI 

A WILD RACE IN THE NIGHT 

Johnny had not gone far in the pursuit of 
the strange intruder who had leaped out from 
behind the sheet-steel press, before he realized 
that this was no ordinary runner. Not only 
was he fleet and sure, but he was also nimble 
as a deer. 

Almost from the first it became an obstacle 
race, a hurdle race, a long-distance endurance 
race, all in one. Into the milling-room, where 
were long lines of milling-machines and where 
great quantities of unfinished parts — cam- 
shafts, crank-shafts, gears and a multitude of 
smaller parts — were piled close together, the 
fugitive raced. Over machines and heaps of 
parts alike he hurdled. Dodging this way and 
that, he was now lost to Johnny’s view and now 
found again. 


72 


A Wild Race in the Night 73 

Panting, perspiring, yet confident, Johnny fol- 
lowed on. Knowing full well that when it came 
to a test of endurance few men could outdo him, 
he held to his pace, striving only to keep his 
opponent in sight. 

One thing puzzled him. In the tiger-like leap 
of the fellow, in the swinging, crouching stoop, 
there was something strikingly familiar. 

‘‘ I’ve seen him before, I know that,” he told 
himself, ‘‘but when and where ? ” 

Suddenly the fellow shot up the cross-bars of 
an inclined conveyor track which led to the sec- 
ond floor. Suspended from a mono-rail above 
this conveyor track was an electrically controlled 
tram. 

Was the electricity turned on? Johnny’s mind 
worked with the speed of a wireless. His muscles 
did its bidding. Leaping to the platform of the 
tram, he threw the lever back. So suddenly did 
the thing start forward that Johnny was all but 
thrown from the tram. 

The next instant he caught his breath and 
threw in the clutch. He was not a second too 


74 


White Fire 


soon, for had the tram traveled ten feet fur- 
ther it would inevitably have struck the racing 
stranger square in the back of his head. 

I want to catch him, not kill him,’’ mut- 
tered Johnny. 

But the stranger was game. Leaping away 
to the right, he dropped through a hole in the 
floor in which there dangled a chain. Quickly 
he disappeared from sight. 

Johnny followed, and, just as he touched the 
floor below, heard the hum of an electric mo- 
tor. 

Johnny knew at once what it was — a '' mule,” 
as the workmen called the short, snub-nosed 
electric trucks used all over the shops for light 
hauling. 

I can’t catch him on a mule,” he groaned. 

But again his face cleared. Just before him 
there stood another of the trucks. ''A mule 
against a mule,” he smiled. “ Now we’ll see 
who’s the best driver.” 

The race, while wild and furious, assumed an 
almost humorous aspect; indeed, Johnny fancied 


A Wild Race in the Night 75 

that from time to time the stranger turned about 
and uttered a low chuckle. That was discon- 
certing, to say the least. Added to this was 
the growing conviction that he had met this 
fellow before, and that under more favorable 
circumstances. 

All this, however, did not in one whit abate 
his desire to win the race and capture the fel- 
low. Wildly the mules plunged on. Around 
this corner, then that one, down a long row of 
half-assembled automobiles where a single mis- 
laid tool in their track might mean a disastrous 
spill, through a maze of trucks loaded down 
with finished parts, now out into the open air 
between buildings, now through a tunnel, they 
raced. Now gaining, now losing, now dash- 
ing through a short-cut and almost clipping the 
end of the stranger’s mule, now headed ofif by 
a slamming door, Johnny gained, only to lose 
again, until at last he came up short to find the 
stranger’s mule standing deserted in the heart 
of the packing-room. 

Where could he have gone ? ” 


76 


White Fire 


It took but a moment for the answer. There 
came the grind of the overhead tram. The tram 
used for carrying fully boxed machines led to 
the great loading room where Johnny had lost 
his other race. 

'' If he makes it, he’s gone ! ” Leaping out 
and up, Johnny caught the platform of a sec- 
ond tram; he drew himself up, threw in the 
lever and was once more in the race. 

At last fortune was favoring him. The door 
to the loading-room was locked. The stranger 
was running himself into a narrow passage from 
which escape would be impossible. Johnny 
leaped from his tram, to find the stranger fac- 
ing him. That person was clearly on the de- 
fense. With fists doubled up he advanced to 
attack. 

Just as the stranger struck out with his right 
hand, Johnny ducked low — so low that the 
other’s blow glanced harmlessly over his head. 
The next instant Johnny would have come up 
with a haymaker,” had not the stranger 
thrown himself, stomach down, on Johnny’s 


A Wild Race in the Night 77 

back, and turned a quick somersault forward. 

Whipping himself about, prepared for an- 
other wild race, Johnny was astonished to find 
the stranger standing smiling at him, and ex- 
tending his hand; 

‘‘Good work, Johnny, old boy!’’ the other 
grinned. “ You haven’t lost a bit of your pep! ” 

“ You’ve got the best of me,” Johnny smiled 
doubtfully, “ but if you ever had any more pep 
yourself, I’d hate to have followed you far ! ” 
He mopped his brow. 

“ Don’t recognize me, eh ? Perhaps you miss 
the blue goggles.” 

“What?” Johnny stared. “What? Not 
my old pal. Panther Eye ? ” 

“ The same,” smiled the other. 

“But what are you doing here?” 

“ Been working here for a month. Got a way 
of getting in when I want to. Thought I’d 
make you an early morning call. Whew! you 
sure gave me a merry chase! Good of you 
though not to knock my head off with that tram. 
’Fraid you’ll never make an ideal guard.” 


78 


White Fire 


'' rd never be a guard at all if I had my way. 
But whafd you run for? ’’ 

''Just wanted to see how much you had in 
you,” chuckled Panther Eye. 

"Oh, you did! Well, you saw, didn’t you?” 

"Yes,” the other admitted, taking his turn 
at mopping his brow. 

"Say!” Johnny exclaimed, "since it’s only 
you, Pve got to get back to my post. Got some 
cakes and a little ice-cream in the bottom of 
a freezer from the company cafeteria. Want 
to join me? ” 

" Sure.” 

"All right; let’s go.” 

As they made their way back through the 
maze of machinery to the vault, Johnny was 
busy with his own thoughts. Strange questions 
kept rising in his mind. This fellow, Panther 
Eye, or " Pant,” as the boys called him for 
short, had been with him in many an adven- 
ture. He had appeared to possess strange pow- 
ers, too. The boys had called him " Panther 
Eye” because he appeared to have the power 


A Wild Race in the Night 79 

to see in the dark. There had been a time when 
Johnny had been with him in a cave dark as a 
dungeon, surrounded by hostile natives, yet 
Pant had somehow known that the natives were 
there, and had led the way through the dense 
darkness to safety. There had been other times 
— many of them — in which Pant had made 
Johnny a heavy debtor to him through his use 
of wonderful powers. 

Now,’’ Johnny was wondering, just how 
much has he to do with the events of the last 
few days? He’s too honorable a fellow to have 
anything to do with the attempt to secure the 
secret-process steel for some other manufac- 
turer. But how about the White fire? What of 
the driving of the traveling crane?” 

At last he closed his mental questionings with 
a sigh. He had never asked Pant to reveal 
any of his secrets and he was not going to be- 
gin now. 

Soon they were feasting on ice-cream and 
cake and talking over old times. 

By the way,” said Johnny, as dawn began 


80 


White Fire 


to break, have you ever met Mr. McFarland? ” 
Say not ! '' grinned Pant. '' He’s the mana- 
ger, ain’t he?” 

‘^Yes. Want to meet him?” 

I’d try it once.” 

‘^All right. Soon’s I’m relieved from duty 
we’ll wander around to his office.” 

‘‘Chum of yours, I suppose?” 

“ Not exactly. But I’m working under his or- 
ders. Got something to turn in this morning.” 

“Let’s see. What?” 

Johnny showed him the connecting-rod made 
of the strange blue steel. “ Made that my- 
self,” Johnny said proudly. 

A peculiar smile played about Pant’s lips, 
but he said never a word. 

When Pant had been introduced to the mana- 
ger, as one of Johnny’s oldest and best friends, 
who happened to be working at the plant, Johnny 
produced the connecting rod, and, with trem- 
bling fingers, handed it to the manager. 

“ What’s that ? ” A puzzled expression came 
into the manager’s eyes. 


A Wild Race in the Night 81 

Connecting-rod made of the new-process 
steel/’ 

“What! Can’t be! That steel won’t work! 
Nobody knows how. But — ” He paused to 
look more closely — “ but it is ! Say ! Do you 
know how to work it ? ” 

“ No,” Johnny said regretfully, “ I’m afraid 
I don’t.” 

“ Then how was it made ? Where did you 
get it?” 

Johnny sat down and this time told the story 
of the white fire through from the beginning. 
Only one thing he did not tell: He did not tell 
of testing the steel in the laboratory and of the 
bottle of brownish liquid on the top shelf. 

The manager listened with rapt attention, 
now and then ejaculating: “Never heard of 
such a thing! Can’t believe it unless I see it 
myself! Impossible, young man! Impossible! 
Can’t believe it ! ” 

“ But here’s the forging to prove it,” insisted 
Johnny stoutly. 

“ Tell you what ! ” said the manager, “ I’m 


82 


White Fire 


willing to lose a night's sleep over it, or part of 
one at least. We'll try the thing out. We’ll 
see if the ghost walks to-night," he laughed. 

We'll take out two of the long bars in the 
vault and one of the short ones. We'll put 
them on the forge and — and if the fire comes 
and they get white-hot, we'll cut the two long 
bars in half, and hammer four connecting-rods 
from them and one from the short one. That 
will give six with this one you have, making a 
full set for one of our chummy roadsters. Can 
you drive a car?" he asked suddenly. 

‘^Yes, sir." 

^^All right. If the ghost walks to-night, it's 
a trip clear across the continent for you — all 
the way to the Golden Gate and back again! 
What say?" 

‘‘I — I — say all right," stammered Johnny. 

Mind you," warned Mr. McFarland, shak- 
ing his finger at Johnny, that's providing the 
white fire comes. But, pshaw! it won't. Who- 
ever heard of such a thing? But, anyway. I'll 
be around at nine sharp." 


A Wild Race in the Night 83 

‘‘Shall I bring Pant?’' asked Johnny. 

“As you like — providing the ghost doesn’t 
object.” The manager laughed again, and the 
two boys walked out. 

That night, when the perpetual din of trip- 
hammers, riveters, millers, and general con- 
struction machinery was stilled, and the plant 
had taken on a hushed and seemingly expectant 
air, the three, Mr. McFarland, Johnny and 
Pant, gathered in the corner of the forge-room. 

The manager seemed nervous. His hand 
trembled slightly as he placed the three steel 
bars on the forge. 

Johnny’s brow was wrinkled. He was wor- 
ried. He was fearful that the experiment would 
not work. Indeed, he had little hopes that it 
would. And he did want it to, for success meant 
the chance to get away from his monotonous 
task, as well as a glorious cross-continent trip. 

Pant’s face wore the old mask-like look that 
Johnny had seen on it so many times before. 

“ Now, I take it,” smiled the manager, “ that 
the formula is to place the bars of steel on the 


84 


White Fire 


forge, then turn your back and walk away. Al- 
ways must go according to formula when deal- 
ing with ghosts,’’ he laughed. ''Are you ready? 
I have placed the bars in position. All right. 
We’re off! Remember, no looking back!” 

Slowly, solemnly, they marched to the end 
of the forge-room, then turned about. Johnny’s 
heart was beating violently. 

" Why ! ” exclaimed the manager, " your 
friend isn’t with us ! ” 

It was true. Pant had disappeared. Before 
Johnny could make a guess as to what had be- 
come of him, there came another exclamation 
from Mr. McFarland: 

" It’s working ! ” There was awe in his voice. 

Johnny stared for a second, then started on 
the run. He was closely followed by his em- 
ployer. The bars, already glowing red, had 
turned to almost a white heat by the time they 
reached the side of the forge. 

The manager had been an expert forge man 
long before he became a capitalist. He now took 
charge. 


A Wild Race in the Night 85 

Steady ! he cautioned. '' One thing at a 
time. First we’ll cut those bars in two. A 
diisel edge on that anvil there. That’s right. 
There you are. Now forge that one while I cut 
the other one.” 

Whang-whang-whang went the hammer. One 
perfect connecting-rod. Whang-whang-whang 
— another. Three times more, then with per- 
spiration standing out on their faces, Johnny 
and his employer sat facing one another while 
the connecting-rods cooled. To Johnny it seemed 
that they must resemble nothing quite so much 
as two puppies, who, after succeeding in killing 
a rat, sit on their haunches to grin at one 
another. 

Suddenly Johnny sprang up; 

''Hello! Here’s Pant,” he shouted. "Where 
you been ? Look what we’ve got 1 ” He pointed 
at the forgings. 

Pant smiled a strangely noncommittal smile. 
" Why, I — happened to think of something,” 
was all he said. There was again that teasing 
smile about the corners of his mouth. 


80 


White Fire 


Well, now, rd like to know more about 
that transcontinental auto trip,’’ smiled Johnny, 
turning to his employer. 

Not to-night. All the details are not worked 
out yet. Besides, it’s late, and old fellows like 
me belong in bed. But I want to congratulate 
you.” He put out his hand. Johnny shook it 
warmly. The more I think of it, Johnny, the 
more I’m inclined to think your ghost is a scien- 
tific enigma.” With a nod to Pant which might 
have meant merely good night ” and which 
also might have indicated something more mys- 
terious, he was gone. 

You see,” said Mr. McFarland, as Johnny 
took the chair by his desk next morning, ‘‘you 
helped us to speed things up quite a bit by get- 
ting those connecting-rods forged. This new 
steel must be tested out in actual service. Even 
had we the formula, this would be true. Now, 
with this set of connecting-rods in our posses- 
sion, we are in a position to give the steel a 
thorough testing out. 

“My proposition is this,” he wheeled about. 


A Wild Race in the Night 87. 

and leveled his eyes upon Johnny. We’ll 
get those connecting-rods milled down to the 
shape and surface needed, if we have to use 
diamond millers to do it. When they are in 
perfect shape, we’ll put them into one of our 
chummy roadster engines, and you take that 
roadster across the continent and back again to 
test them out. What do you say to that? ” His 
face broadened into a smile. It’ll be some trip, 
but by George you deserve it ! ” 

Johnny did not appear to share fully in his 
enthusiasm. 

It’s all right,” he hesitated, '' and I’d like to 
do it. It would be a wonderful experience, but 
— but there’s that chummy roadster I was sal- 
vaging and was to have at cost. It’s two-thirds 
done. It will mean a long wait. I — I’d like to 
finish it.” 

I see,” said the manager, stroking his chin. 
You want a car of your own — that’s natural. 
I suppose most boys do.” 

It’s not that,” Johnny hesitated, then added: 
Not that at all, sir. I want to finish it to sell.” 


88 


White Fire 


'' Sell it? ’’ His employer stared. 

‘‘ Yes, sir! I have a debt.’' 

‘"A debt?” The manager’s eyes registered 
disapproval. ‘'A boy of your age shouldn’t have 
debts.” 

Johnny got red in the face, hesitated a mo- 
ment, then blurted out : “ It’s not my debt. My 
father’s debt, but one he would have paid every 
cent of had he lived.” 

‘^Your father’s debt?” the manager asked 
with a curious change of tone. Yes, he would 
have paid it. I believe you. And you want to 
pay by selling the car you have salvaged? ” 

Yes, sir; part of it.” Johnny’s eyes were 
upon the floor. 

'' All right, you shall. You shall pay it. But 
just now we need you for this new service. Can 
you trust me to see that your affairs come out 
all right?” 

'^Yes, sir.” Johnny looked him in the eye. 

*^A11 right. Be back in my office here at this 
time day after to-morrow. In the meantime, 
you are on your own.” 


89 


A Wild Race in the Night 

There’s one thing more,” said Johnny. 

This fellow Pant is an old friend of mine ; he’s 
seen me through a lot of things. Any objection 
to his going along? ” 

‘‘ None whatever. He’ll be a help to you, and 
between you, you must guard the car well,_for 
you must not for one minute forget that it con- 
tains almost our entire supply of the precious 
new steel, and that as yet we do not know the 
formula.” 

We’ll do our best,” said Johnny, as he pulled 
on his cap and left the room. 


CHAPTER VII 

A RACE ACROSS THE DESERT 

Johnny was puzzled and not a little worried. 
The chummy roadster, equipped with connect- 
ing-rods of the new steel, which had carried them 
seven thousand miles without a mishap, lunged 
first to one side of the road, then to the other. 
It leaped forward to bury itself in a cloud of 
dust that lay deep as mud on the desert trail. 
To the right and left of them and before them, 
far as eye could see, was sagebrush. The air 
was permeated with the odor of it. 

They were two hundred miles from anywhere, 
in the heart of the Great American Desert, and 
behind them, like a streak of fire, a long, low 
red car was bearing down upon them. It was 
this car that puzzled and worried him. 

‘‘Can’t give her more gas, can you?” Pant 
asked hoarsely. “ They’re gaining fast.” 

90 


A Race Across the Desert 91 

Pushing the dusty goggles up from the ridge 
of his nose, Johnny stared ahead. There never 
was another such trail. In a land where rain 
never falls the roads rut, and the ruts fill with 
dust. Cars sink in to the axles, and skidding, 
shoot to the other side, to fall into a deeper rut. 
To go faster is suicide,’’ Johnny groaned. 

Guess it’ll have to be a fight ! ” 

Mighty uneven one, too, probably,” Pant 
muttered. Don’t stop till I tell you to ; I’m 
getting into the back seat to have a look at 
them.” 

Gripping the seat he made his way, tossed 
first this way, then that, to the back of the car. 
There he remained with eyes fixed on the back 
trail. 

Rapidly Johnny ran over in his mind the cir- 
cumstances which led up to this moment. He 
had gone to the manager’s office at the time ap- 
pointed, and there had been given the car, 
equipped with the strangely valuable connecting- 
rods. He had been instructed to draw on the 
company for expense money when necessary, to 


92 


White Fire 


report progress once a week, to make his way 
to the Pacific coast and back. 

The outgoing journey had been wonderful. 
The speeding across broad plains, between wav- 
ing fields of grain, the climbing of the Rocky 
mountain and Cascade passes, circling up and 
up and up, with here a yawning canyon hun- 
dreds of feet beneath them, and here, not a hun- 
dred feet above them, one of those perpetual 
banks of snow ; all this had given Johnny a new 
vision of the grandeur and beauty of his native 
land. 

The return trip had been uneventful until they 
had reached the western edge of the Great 
American Desert. There in a garage, wl^ere 
they had left their car for a change of tires and 
to secure a box lunch to take with them in cross- 
ing, they had seen a man who roused Johnny’s 
suspicions. 

Did you see that fellow?” he had asked of 
Pant, as they left the garage, the chap stand- 
ing by the door ? ” 

“ Some bird ! ” Pant had chuckled. 


A Race Across the Desert 


93 


Looks like a gigantic frog/’ Johnny had 
smiled. ‘‘ Did you notice what prodigiously long 
fingers he had, and what spindly legs? ” 

I bet he could scratch his ear with his big 
toe all right,” Pant had laughed. ‘‘ Some con- 
tortionist, maybe.” 

At the word contortionist ” Johnny had 
started. He recalled his struggle back there in 
the factory with the fellow who appeared to 
have all the strange characteristics of a contor- 
tionist. So strong was the resemblance between 
this man and the one back in the garage he was 
tempted to turn back. 

But he had called himself fanciful and fool- 
ish, and had gone on with Pant for their lunch. 

Upon returning to the garage, however, his 
first thought was of the car. The instant his 
eyes fell upon it a quick exclamation had es- 
caped his lips, and he bounded forward. 

Dressed in a suit of unionalls, and bending 
over the engine, had been the slim stranger. 

'‘Hey, there! What’s up?” Johnny had de- 
manded. 


94 


White Fire 


^‘Tunin’ her up a bit. Why? Whafs wor- 
r/n’ yuh?’’ 

Johnny eyed the stranger angrily. 

That's our car. We didn't order any work 
done in it." 

‘‘ Your car? " The other had straightened up 
in amazement, real or cleverly pretended. 
‘"Why, then I'm workin’ on the wrong jitney! 
Beg your pardon. I'll put her back in shape. 
Won't take but a minute." 

“ I'll tend to it myself," Johnny had said 
rather shortly. 

“ Oh ! All right, brother. No quarrel about 
that ! " The stranger had gathered up his tools 
and had backed away. 

Johnny's heart had skipped a beat when he 
saw how close a shave it had been; two of the 
connecting-rods were all but free from their 
fastenings, and the others might have been in a 
few moments more. 

“ I'd like to have him pinched," he grumbled, 
“ but what's the use. They'd say we were crazy. 
You can't tell them the whole truth, and you 


A Race Across the Desert 95 

can’t have a man arrested for working on the 
wrong car by mistake.” 

Pant nodded a sympathetic assent. 

They had taken the desert trail with many 
misgivings. This roaring red demon behind 
told them that their fears were well founded. 
They did not know how many men there were in 
the car, but there were probably two to their 
one, and the other men were doubtless heavily 
armed. There could be no doubting their pur- 
pose. They were after the steel. 

Looks bad ! ” Johnny groaned, as he braced 
himself in the seat and prepared to give the car 
three more notches of gas, hoping against hope 
the meanwhile that they would heave' in sight of 
some sheep-herder’s shack or some truck cara- 
van coming from the other direction. Well he 
knew that, on this unfrequented road, the chance 
was slight. 

They were speeding up. The car swayed 
from side to side like a drunken man. It tossed 
this way and that like a ship in a high sea. Now 
they careened to the right, and, running on two 


96 


White Fire 

wheels, plunged madly forward, to swing back 
and go whirling to the left. 

All this time Johnny, with hands grimly grip- 
ping the wheel, with eyes glued upon the road, 
was, in his subconscious mind, counting the cost. 
It had been his chance. Now he was going to 
lose. He had hoped that this trip would mean 
much toward wiping out his debt of honor. 
That was all over now. He had made, he hoped, 
a good impression on his employer. This, too, 
would be forgotten. With the valuable steel 
parts stolen, the work of their weeks of travel 
would be lost. The secret formula, too, might 
be discovered. And all this because he had not 
taken precaution to see that the wily stranger 
was clear of the neighborhood before they 
started across the desert. 

A hill loomed ahead. The slight climb ended 
in a broad, flat plateau. Here the alkali dust 
disappeared. Straight, hard and smooth for a 
mile, perhaps two miles, the road stretched. 

Johnny’s heart gave a bound of hope. What 
was beyond the brow of that plateau? 


A Race Across the Desert 


97 


All this time his mind was wandering back 
to Pant. Sitting there silently in the back seat, 
his eyes glued upon the road, he seemed oblivi- 
ous to all else. There had been a time when 
Johnny would have considered him equal to the 
task of stopping the pursuers by some magic 
power. By the flash of a crimson light, which 
appeared to come from his very eyes, he had 
seen him stop a hungry tiger stalking its prey. 
But those were the days in which Pant wore a 
cap pulled well down and a pair of immense 
black goggles. There had been mystery behind 
this cap and those goggles. Pant without them 
seemed shorn of his magic power, like Samson 
when shorn of his hair. 

Down the smooth, straight stretch of road 
they sped, and for one mile at least the red 
demon gained not one single yard. 

But as they reached the end of that plateau, 
grim despair gripped the boy’s heart. Far and 
away lay only the uneven volcanic ash and the 
sagebrush. Not a house, not an automobile, 
not a cattleman’s pony dotted the landscape. 


98 


White Fire 


and from this promontory one might see miles. 

Might as well wreck her.^ Johnny ground 
his teeth. '' We’re stuck here. If they catch 
us they’ll strip her, and you can’t run a car 
without connecting-rods. Old boat,” he 
groaned, we’ll stick to the trail till we crash 
or they run us down.” 

The car gave a lurch, all but turned over, 
righted itself and shot down the ridge. 

'^Hey!” Johnny caught Pant’s voice at his 
elbow. '' Guess you can ease up a bi^^ow. 
No use takin’ too many chances. I think by the 
looks of it, their car’s on fire ! ” 

Johnny slowed down, then looked back. He 
could not believe Pant. He looked again. It 
was true; above the dull brown cloud of dust 
was a white and black cloud of smoke. 

^'Couldn’t be the sagebrush?” said Johnny, 
rubbing his eyes. 

Don’t think so,” said Pant, climbing back 
into the front seat. Sagebrush wouldn’t 
make that kind of smoke; besides, it’s green 
and wouldn’t burn.” The car bumped along at 


A Race Across the Desert 


99 


a milder pace. The red demon, now unmis- 
takably ablaze, reached the crest of the plateau 
and stopped. Men swarmed out of her. 

'' Four of ’em,’' Pant chuckled. Fine 
chance we’d have had against ’em ! ” 

They’re waving at us,” said Johnny, after 
a glance over his shoulder. 

Let ’em wave. Think we’re green, I guess. 
Expect us to come right back and play things 
into their hands. Be a car or something along 
here to-day or to-morrow, sure. Won’t hurt 
’em to eat dust awhile. That’s the job they 
meant to give us, all right.” 

Ten miles farther on they stopped for lunch. 
As Johnny drew the lunch-box from beneath 
the back seat, he noticed a long, slim leather 
case lying on the floor of the car. As he picked 
it up, he was astonished at the weight of it. 

'' What’s this. Pant? ” he asked in a surprised 
tone. 

'' That ? Why that ” — Pant seemed unduly 
excited — '' that’s a little emergency case I 
always carry with me.” 


100 


White Fire 


He put out his hand for it, and having it, at 
once fastened it to his belt beneath his jacket. 

‘‘Emergency case?’’ thought Johnny. “I 
wonder what kind.” But as usual he asked no 
questions. 

He was destined to remember that case and 
the unusual circumstances of the burning car 
many days later. 


/ 


CHAPTER VIII 
THE DUST-EATING MULE 

The long, dark corridors of the vast auto- 
mobile and airplane factory were silent. The 
same old ponderous machines loomed here and 
there, while smaller ones stood sentry every- 
where. At the end of one long alleyway a 
small light gleamed. Flickering first to the 
right, then to the left, it cast gigantic shadows 
against the walls. 

Two boys were working over a “ mule.’’ A 
mule in a factory, as you will remember, is one 
of those hard-working, snub-nosed little motors 
that drag trucks about from department to 
department. The boys were working over the 
motor of this mule. There came now and then 
the metallic clink of a wrench, or the tap tap 
of a hammer, followed by a grunt of satisfac- 
tion or disgust. 


101 


102 


White Fire 


There!'’ Johnny Thompson straightened 
up and stretched his cramped muscles. I 
guess she's about ready to move." 

The trip across-continent and the return had 
been accomplished. Aside from the stirring 
adventure on the desert, they had met with no 
unusual experiences. The connecting-rods, 
struck from the steel of mysterious composi- 
tion, had performed wonderfully well. When 
measured by instruments that were exact to 
the ten-thousandth part of an inch, it had been 
found that they had worn down only thirty- 
four ten thousandths of an inch, while con- 
necting-rods of the best known commercial 
steel would have worn one hundred and forty- 
two ten thousandths of an inch in making the 
same mileage. Small figures, but in the history 
of steel they promised to mark an epoch. 

The inventor's mind was improving but he 
had not as yet succeeded in recalling the for- 
mula. While hoping for his recovery, the boys 
were preparing to make a more rigorous test 
of this new steel. The company were manu- 


The Dust-Eating Mule 


103 


facturing a new type of seaplane. Every after- 
noon the two boys, togged out in aviator’s 
garb, were learning to fly this new plane. It 
was planned that, when the boys found them- 
selves to be perfect masters of this new vehicle 
of the air, the six connecting-rods should be 
placed in the motor of the seaplane, and that 
it be shipped to the Pacific coast. There, un- 
der ideal conditions, they were to test out, not 
only the connecting-rods, but the seaplane, fly- 
ing, as a last trial, a thousand miles or more. 

The pay Johnny had received for the cross- 
continent trip had enabled him to make a large 
payment on his debt of honor. As for Pant, 
he, for the first time in his life, had a savings 
account. 

During their forenoons they were busy in 
the factory. At times Johnny thought of the 
vial of dark liquid that reposed on the shelf 
in the laboratory, the one he had placed there 
the night he made the analysis of the mys- 
terious steel. At one time while in the labora- 
tory he had glanced up to make sure it was 


104 


White Fire 


there. It was still in its place. He had been 
tempted to tell the chemist about it but was 
afraid of being laughed at. 

“ Never mind/' he told himself, “ in time I 
will learn to make a chemical analysis myself. 
Then I'll see what's what." 

The question of the strange white fire puz- 
zled him at times. He wondered, too, how the 
automobile of the contortionist had happened 
to catch fire in the desert. But these were mere 
vague wonderings which had no answer. 

Though they were well occupied during the 
day, the boys found time at night for working 
upon a new, strange problem of which as yet, 
their friend, Mr. McFarland, the president and 
manager, knew nothing. It was this problem 
that occupied their minds at the present mo- 
ment. It was a stirring moment. Many nights 
they had spent working over a new type of en- 
gine, one that had never been set in a motor 
vehicle before. Now it was ready for the try- 
out. 

“Track clear?" breathed Johnny. 


The Bust-Eating Mule 


105 


'‘All clear/’ Pant whispered back. 

"All right ; here goes ! ” 

There followed a series of sudden sharp ex- 
plosions. These increased rapidly until they 
became a loud and insistent purr. Then, with 
the force and speed of a frightened pig, the 
little motor car shot forward. 

The movement was too sudden for the boys. 
Johnny was thrown backward upon the floor. 
Pant, thrown in a wild whirl to the right, saw 
the motor, a black streak, shoot down the dark 
alley-way. 

" She’s got speed,” he muttered. 

The wild snorting of the motor awakened 
echoes in every corner of the factory. This 
was followed almost immediately by a deafen- 
ing crash. 

Pant started quickly forward, then paused. 
Johnny was now on his feet. 

"Did she explode or hit the wall?” Pant 
asked. 

" Hit the wall.” 

Johnny rubbed his bruised head ruefully. 


106 


White Fire 


Wouldn’t believe she could make such 
time.” 

'' That was a powerful engine.” 

The two boys were now on the run. They 
arrived at the scene of the disaster just ahead 
of a tall man carrying a flashlight and a bunch 
of keys. 

This man — the watchman — flashed his 
light upon the bent and twisted metal that lay 
against the wall, then demanded sternly: 

‘‘What’s that?” 

“ That,” said Johnny with a wry smile, “ is 
a pile of scrap.” 

“ Don’t get fresh,” the watchman warned. 
“What is it?” 

“ It’s what I said it is,” said Johnny seriously. 
“If you want to know what it was. I’ll tell 
you; it was a dust-eating mule.” 

The watchman’s mouth flew open. “A — 
A,” he sputtered incredulously. “ I told you be- 
fore, young fellow, don’t get fresh.” He moved 
a hand toward Johnny menacingly. 

“ I have told you the truth,” said Johnny 


The Dmt-Eating Mule 


107 


stoutly. Perhaps I should have said a dust- 
burning mule. That's what she was. It 
wouldn't be a bit of good to explain to you; 
you wouldn’t understand, and besides, I don’t 
want to. That’s our secret. We have permis- 
sion from Mr. McFarland to conduct experi- 
ments here nights.” 

But you have no permission to endanger 
men’s lives.” 

That’s right,” Johnny admitted; we were a 
bit careless.” 

I’ll just turn the facts in to the boss and 
you can fight it out with him,” said the watch- 
man sourly as he turned away. 

Well, that’s that,” said Johnny sorrowfully. 

It’s a complete loss. We’ll have to begin all 
over again. But from that little test I am con- 
vinced that the engine has a wonderful future.” 

This particular one had a brief but event- 
ful past, I’d say,” grinned Pant. 

After one more look at the wreck, they turned 
and went their way. 

That night before he fell asleep Johnny re- 


108 


White Fire 


viewed in his mind the events that led up to 
the happenings of that evening. 

He, Johnny, had been standing on the steps 
of the official entrance to the plant one after- 
noon, when Mr. McFarland had said to him: 

Johnny, please go down to the north gate and 
request that old man to go away. He is stop- 
ping the workers as they pass and trying to 
engage them in conversation. He looks like he 
is a propagandist for some radical organization 
trying to make the men discontented. Get rid 
of him if you can.” 

The man had turned out to be not a radical 
at all, but a friendly and harmless old man who 
was seeking some one who could be interested 
in a new type of engine which he had invented. 
Such a fine spoken and polished old gentleman 
had he proved to be that Johnny had been pre- 
vailed upon to accompany him to his home to 
see the engine. 

He had found the home of the aged inven- 
tor to be a fourth-floor back flat, being merely 
two dark rooms upon an alley. Here, with his 


The Bust-Eating Mule 109 

wife, a pleasant-faced old lady, he lived and 
labored. 

'' You see,’' he had said, as he uncovered the 
engine with the dramatic movement of one who 
unveils a great work of art, this engine of 
mine is different from all other internal-combus- 
tion engines. It doesn’t burn gasoline; it burns 
dust.” 

Dust ! ” Johnny had exclaimed. 

'' Dust ! ” the old man had smiled. Watch 
it!” 

He touched a lever. There followed a suc- 
cession of rapid and sharp explosions. These 
increased in number per second until they be- 
came a prolonged purr, as the one in the 
mule ” had done. The engine was now revolv- 
ing at full speed. 

You see?” the old man had smiled. ‘‘She 
runs — on dust ! ” 

“ On dust,” Johnny had repeated in a daze. 

The old man had touched the lever and the 
engine had stopped. 

“ You think it strange,” the old man had 


110 


White Fire 


smiled, motioning Johnny to a chair and taking 
one himself; ''but, after all, is it so strange? 
The first internal-combustion engine, we have 
it on good authority, did not burn gasoline but 
a composition of gun powder and other sub- 
stances. The greatest grain elevator in the 
world was destroyed by a dust explosion. Bil- 
lions of fine particles of carbon dust gathered 
in the air space above the wheat. A spark 
touched it off. A tremendous explosion fol- 
lowed. There is unlimited power there. Why 
not harness it?’’ 

" You are looking,” he pointed at the engine, 
" upon the motor power of the future. It ran, 
as you saw a moment ago, on coal dust, a very 
finely powdered coal dust. A little is let in at 
a time. A slight ash is formed^ This drops 
out at the top of the cylinder, as you will see 
the engine runs inverted. It was burning 
coal dust, but any carbon dust will do. Wood 
ground fine, wheat dust, peat dust, any carbon 
dust will drive it. Think what that means to 
the world-traveler of the future! No more 


The Dust-Eating Mule 


111 


disgusting waiting for gasoline; no more weary 
miles on foot. You land in the heart of Africa, 
India, Siberia. You have with you a small 
grinder like a wheat mill. It is run by bat- 
teries. You are out of fuel. You merely grind 
up a dry tree-trunk, a sack of wheat or a few 
pounds of coal, and you are away again.’’ 

Sounds like a dream,” Johnny had sighed. 

It is a dream — a dream that has come 
true,” the old man had fairly shouted. All that 
is needed is capital to perfect larger motors, 
to put them upon the market. If only your 
president, can be made to see it, as you and I 
see it — ” 

I’ll try,” Johnny had gripped the old inven- 
tor’s hand. I’ll see what I can do.” 

The next night Pant had accompanied Johnny 
to the aged inventor’s room, and there over 
some wonderful coffee and doughnuts prepared 
by the inventor’s wife, they talked over the fu- 
ture of the strange dust-burning engine. 

It was decided that, since the engine had 
never been tried out in any vehicle, Johnny and 


112 


White Fire 


Pant should obtain permission to experiment 
with it in the factory after hours to perfect it 
further before it was presented to the busy 
president 

Three weeks of spare time experimenting had 
resulted in the complete wreck of the engine, 
smashed against a brick wall. 

Now we’ll have to begin all over again, and 
because that watchman turns us in we’ll have 
to show our plans to the president,” said Johnny. 

The revealing of their plans was not the mis- 
fortune they thought it, for Mr. McFarland at 
once became keenly interested in the enterprise. 
He took them off their regular work and set 
them doing full time in experimenting with this 
new engine. 

In two weeks they had a new mule doing 
double-quick time all over the shop. Another 
two weeks saw them riding about the streets of 
the city in a car driven by a dust-burning motor. 

Their happiness knew no bounds. Bound- 
less, too, were their ambitions. This should 
be the airplane engine of the future. Two 


The Dust-Eating Mule 


113 


twelve-cylinder motors were manufactured for 
the seaplane they were to drive and the plane 
and motors were shipped to the Pacific coast 
where, over the placid waters of a bay, they 
might experiment with little danger of dis- 
aster. 

They had been on the Pacific coast, driving 
the plane equipped with the two dust-burning 
motors and with one of the motors using the six 
connecting-rods of mysterious steel, for a week 
when one day Johnny decided to make a short 
drive over the country alone. Not suspecting 
that anyone could, this time, be on their trail, 
he told Pant of his intention while in the lobby 
of their hotel while a number of persons were 
present. 

He made a successful trip of some two hun- 
dred miles. A fog had blown up from the sea 
but he knew the location of a beautiful moun- 
tain lake which he had often longed to visit. 
On an island in this lake, he had been told, were 
to be found traces of the wonderful fossilized 
forests for which the West is famous. 


114 


White Fire 


By circling low he succeeded in locating the 
placid surface of the lake and in making a cred- 
itable landing. Unbuckling his harness he rose 
stiffly, stretched his cramped limbs, then, turn- 
ing hastily, unlashed a small skiff from the back 
of the fuselage and, having tossed it lightly 
into the water, seized the paddle, leaped into 
the skiff and paddled rapidly toward the shore. 

He had been gone for perhaps five minutes 
when, without warning, from out of the white 
fog there appeared the prow of a small motor- 
boat. The engine was not going. The two 
occupants of the boat were rowing, each with 
one oar. Their destination, beyond doubt, was 
the seaplane. 

Not a word was spoken until the taller of 
the two men, a strange-appearing fellow with 
unusually long fingers, put out a hand and, 
steadying himself for a moment, leaped from 
the boat to the lower wing of the plane. 

''Work fast,'’ the shorter man cautioned in 
a whisper. " He may be back any moment.” 

" Count on me. Don't want any mix-up. 


The Dust-Eating Mule 


115 


Nasty business/' whispered the other, then with 
a spring he was away down the length of the 
plane. The next minute he had climbed to a 
narrow platform parallel with the powerful 
motors which hung suspended halfway between 
the upper and lower planes. 

Drawing a wrench and a pair of pliers from 
his pocket, he worked over the engine to the 
right for some eight or ten minutes. When he 
had finished, he mumbled something that 
sounded like: 

' Guess that'll slow him up," then thrusting 
his tools, together with some other small ob- 
jects, into his pocket, he leaped back to the 
plane, and, racing down its length, sprang into 
the motorboat. 

'' Thought you had decided to stay," grumbled 
the waiting man. 

Time enough," the other drawled. Seizing 
his oar, he pushed the boat away from the 
plane. 

The next moment they disappeared silently 
into the fog. They had been gone but an in- 


116 


White Fire 

credibly short time when Johnny reappeared 
in his shallow skiff. 

Well, she’s still here,” he breathed with a 
sigh of satisfaction. Guess I ought not to 
take such chances, but who’d be out here that 
knows our secret?” 

He climbed happily back to his seat in the 
plane, buckled on his harness, then touched his 
lever. 

But what was this? The engine gave a few 
sput-sputs, then stopped dead. 

What?” 

He could not believe his senses. He tried it 
again. No better results. 

Snatching off his harness, he leaped to the 
platform beside the motor. 

For a moment his eyes and his fingers played 
over the line of spark plugs of the twelve- 
cylinder motor, as a skilled musician plays over 
the keys of an organ. 

Then his face went blank. 

Changed ! ” he muttered. Somebody’s 
been here. That spark plug there; never had 


The Dust-Eating Mule 


117 


one like that. And that one; I cracked the 
enamel when I put one in there. It’s gone. 
Perfectly good-looking one there now. Some- 
body’s tampered — ” 

He drew from his pocket a wrench. Quickly 
unscrewing the spark plug, he placed it on top 
of the cylinder, then gave the propeller a whirl. 

‘‘No spark,” he mumbled. “Dead! Dead as 
a last year’s ragweed!” 

Again he paused in thought. 

The next moment he was all action. Drop- 
ping to the fuselage, he dragged from within 
the space back of the seat numerous odds 
and ends of wooden rods, coils of wire, clamps, 
bolts and glass insulators. These he pieced to- 
gether with incredible speed. At length a wire- 
strung pole was thrust high in air. Wires 
were attached at the bottom, a receiver thrust 
over his head, and then, seated in his place be- 
fore the wheel, he was allowing his fingers to 
play upon the key of a wireless. 

“ Sput — sput — sput ! ” The snap of the 
electric current sounded above him. He was 


118 


White Fire 


sending out an S. O. S. addressed to Pant at 
the home station. 

'' Sput-sput-sput/' the instrument sounded 
again and again. Each time he waited for an 
answer. At last, to his great joy, it came. 
The buzzing in his receiver resolved itself into 
the dots and dashes of the Morse code : 

Shoot, Pant/^ 

Thank God!” Johnny exclaimed. 

The purpose of the intruders was plain 
enough. They had hoped to drive Johnny to 
desert his plane in this lonely spot, then they 
would return and strip it of its priceless steel 
at their leisure. 

'' I’ll show them ! ” he hissed. 

Again his fingers played on the key. He 
instructed Pant to bring twelve spark plugs 
to the island on Lake Poncetrane. He was to 
make a landing there, if possible, then to bring 
the spark plugs to the northeast corner of the 
island where he, Johnny, would be waiting for 
him. 

He listened until the other boy’s O. K. rang 


The Dust-Eating Mule 


119 


in his ears then, removing the receiver from 
his head, he settled back in his seat. It would 
be two hours before Pant arrived. Everything 
would be all right if — suddenly he sat up 
straight, his brow wrinkled — if he can land 
on the island ! he exclaimed ; and I doubt if 
he can. There’s a small bare space in the very 
center, and that is covered with rocks; the rest 
is timbered. If he can’t land, we lose!” 

At last he rose and, having drawn himself 
up beside the motor, busied himself with the 
task of removing the faulty spark plugs. 

“ The villains ! ” he muttered. It’s a dirty 
trick! ” 

He had just completed his task of removing 
the spark plugs, when there came to his waiting 
ear the drum of a powerful motor. 

Pant,” he murmured, '' good old Pant. He’s 
made it in record time. Now if only — ” 

He did not finish. He dared not hope that 
it could be done. 

The thunder of the motor grew louder. The 
fog had cleared now, and he could see the 


120 


White Fire 


plane, an airplane Pant had borrowed, like some 
gigantic dragon fly, drifting down upon him. 

Before it reached the spot in the sky above 
him, it swerved to the right and went skim- 
ming low over the tree-tops of the island. 

Johnny made no move to go ashore; there 
would be time enough for that after Pant had 
effected a landing — if he did. 

For a second or two the drum of the motor 
ceased, and Johnny’s heart stopped beating with 
it. Could Pant make it? 

But again came the thunder of the motor. 
Again the plane appeared above the trees. He 
had not found a safe landing place. 

Once more the plane circled over the island, 
then dipped out of sight. Again the motor 
stopped. This time Johnny was sure Pant had 
been successful, but again his hopes fell, for 
the plane rose to circle once more. 

Four times he attempted it; four times failed. 

Can’t do it. It’s no use ! ” Johnny sank 
limply down into his seat. 

But Pant was swinging around. He was pre- 


The Dust-Eating Mule 121 

paring to pass low over the seaplane. What 
could he want? 

As he came scudding along with engine shut 
oif, Johnny heard him shout: 

‘‘Watch this!’’ 

The next moment he saw his hand shoot out. 
Something dropped from that hand. Straight 
down it dropped for a hundred feet, then some- 
thing resembling a parachute filled with air 
appeared, and checked its fall. 

Quickly Johnny leaped into his skiff and 
was away to the spot where this miniature 
parachute would fall. The thing was heavy. 
Could he reach it before it dragged the para- 
chute to the bottom of the lake? Straining 
every muscle, he sent the skiff flying over the 
surface of the water. 

The parachute had fallen into the lake. Now 
he was a hundred feet from it, now fifty, now 
twenty-five, and now — now, his hand shot out 
and seized it just as, water-logged, it was be- 
ginning to sink. 

As he dragged the cloth affair from the 


122 


White Fire 


water, from his lips there escaped a glad shout. 
Attached to the parachute’s cord were three 
spark plugs. 

Hardly had he made this discovery than there 
came again the shout: 

Watch this!” 

He did watch, and did do his best, but in 
spite of his efforts the second parachute sank 
before he reached it. 

But there were others. Twice more he suc- 
ceeded and three times failed. But he now had 
nine new spark plugs. Surely here were enough. 

Paddling hastily to the plane, he made the 
changes, dropped into his seat, and again 
touched his lever. This time there came a wel- 
come burst of thunder and he was away. 

He gazed for a second behind him to see 
Pant, his purpose fulfilled, speeding away to- 
ward home. 

That,” smiled Johnny, was a clever trick. 
Pd never have thought of it. But trust good 
old Pant for that. Who’d have thought, 
though,” his brow wrinkled, that old Slim 


The Dust-Eating Mule 123 

Jim, the contortionist, was still on our trail?” 

Strangely enough, during the days that fol- 
lowed the contortionist put in no second ap- 
pearance. 

Three weeks of testing proved to them that 
their engines were a complete success. Then 
began what proved to be their great adventure. 

There came to them a short, bald-headed man 
of middle age, with a letter from Mr. McFar- 
land, their employer. 

The letter read: This gentleman, Professor 

Paul Lasky, is a very close friend of mine. He 
may ask you to do something difficult and dan- 
gerous. Do it if you can, for his cause is wor- 
thy and his need imperative.” 

The stranger was not slow in laying his 
needs before them. A tramp steamer had gone 
on the shoals of a coral island some two thou- 
sand miles from the Pacific coast of America. 
Some passengers and members of the crew had 
been drowned. The others had been rescued. 
The wreck was driven high on the sand in a 
sheltered bay, so she would not break up at 


124 


White Fire 


once. Some hardy adventurers, claiming to 
have owned the steamer, had put off in another 
steamer four days previous with the purpose 
of salvaging her cargo. It was imperative that 
he, the professor, should reach the wreck be- 
fore them. A seaplane was the only craft that 
could bring him to the island in time, and of all 
the air-craft then on the coast, none had the 
possibilities of such protracted flight save their 
own. He wished them to take him there. The 
reward would be ample and, should his mission 
be successfully accomplished, they would be real 
benefactors of mankind, since some tens of 
thousands of children would be benefited. 

Johnny and Pant held a long consultation. 
The undertaking was a serious one. Could it 
be that the stranger knew the type of engine 
their plane carried? His mission must indeed 
be an important one if a mere landsman, accus- 
tomed to neither the sea nor the air, would at- 
tempt such a perilous flight to accomplish it. 

'‘What can it be?’’ Johnny demanded of 
Pant. 


The Dust-Eating Mule 125 

Can’t tell. Some treasure on the ship, 
perhaps.” 

‘‘ But the ship and the cargo belong to the 
men who have gone to strip the wreck, don’t 
they?” 

Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not. Per- 
haps, at least, not all.” 

Well, if you are ready to undertake it, 
I am.” 

You’re on ! ” exclaimed Pant, gripping 
Johnny’s hand. It will be a wonderful test 
for our motors.” 

‘‘And I don’t think our contortionist friend 
can follow us,” smiled Johnny. 

Twenty hours later, after having covered fif- 
teen hundred miles in steady flight, they real- 
ized that it was indeed to be a wonderful test 
for their motors, and to them as well ; a test out 
of which they might never emerge. 

They were sailing high over a boundless ex- 
panse of water, when Johnny suggested that 
they drop to the level of the sea and rest their 
motors for an hour as they drifted, sea-gull-like. 


126 


White Fire 


on the surface of the gently heaving ocean. 

Perfectly calm down there/’ he called 
through his speaking-tube. 

Guess so.” Pant, who was acting as pilot, 
set her nose downward and slowed his engine 
for volplaning. 

As they neared the surface of the water, an 
exclamation of surprise escaped Pant’s lips. 

Why, she’s rolling in great billows. Not a 
breath of air, either ! ” 

It’s stifling,” grumbled Johnny. 

Pant gave one look at the barometer. In- 
stantly his face clouded. 

Didn’t know the glass could drop so low,” 
he mumbled. '' Nasty weather coming. Can’t 
float on that water. Better climb back up.” 

Slowly the plane climbed skyward again. 
When she had reached a high altitude, with the 
suddenness of thought she ceased to climb. 

It was as if she had run, head on, into an 
immense filmy veil of silk that hung from the 
high heavens, its fringe touching the sea. The 
veil was dark, the darkness of midnight blue. 


The Dust-Eating Mule 127 

It seized the plane and set it twirling, whirl- 
ing, pitching, plunging. It was as if a giant 
hand had seized the veil from above and twisted 
it, as one twists a damp towel to wring it. 

It was then that Pant at the wheel lost all 
control. Johnny, in the cabin, became an over- 
large punching-bag. Harnessed to his seat 
from every side, he swung now into space, and 
now jammed hard into place, to feel himself 
banged against the side of the narrow cabin. 
With head sunk limply forward, with his whole 
body relaxed, he waited dumbly for the end. 
What that end might be, he could not even 
guess. They were caught in a typhoon, hun- 
dreds of miles from land, somewhere in mid- 
Pacific. 


CHAPTER IX 

A PLANE IN A TYPHOON 

When they struck the typhoon Johnny had 
the courage to hope that Pant might bring 
them out of it in safety. This, however, seemed 
scarcely believable. The cabin, a moment be- 
fore stuffy as a clothes closet, was now as 
breezy as a mosquito-bar tent in a stiff wind. 
She was battened tight, too. The mad whirl 
of the plane made Johnny dizzy and sick. His 
ears were full of strange sounds. The creak 
and groan of planes, stays and guys, that 
seemed about to snap, was mingled with the 
thunder of the engines. Above all this, like the 
voice of some mad siren’s spirit filled with 
hatred and revenge, rang out the shrill scream 
of the wind. Johnny’s eyes were blinded by 
strange weird lights — red, yellow and purple 
— flash upon flash. 


128 


A Plane in a Typhoon 


129 


Must be in the midst of the gigantic 
smithy where lightning bolts are forged/’ he 
grumbled, as he closed his eyes tight and took 
one more mad whirl that it seemed must be the 
craft’s last. 

But at that, the seemingly last moment, the 
whirling gale took a strange turn. The plane 
hung motionless in mid-air. By good fortune 
she stood right side up. Her planes were as 
yet unimpaired. 

She was a staunch craft. Not a stick, nor 
wire, nor screw but had been tested and doubly 
inspected before they went into her. Her two 
twelve-cylinder engines, lying one beside the 
other above the fuselage, were bound and braced 
from every side. Johnny thought of all this as 
they lay there suspended in space. 

It was a lull; he understood that well enough. 
A strange lull it was, too, as if the storm had 
taken their frail craft into its gigantic fist, as 
an ape holds a fledgling bird in his horny claw 
before crashing it against the trunk of a tree. 

Johnny’s lips were pressed to the speaking- 


130 White Fire 

tube. '' We're in for it ! " he shrilled to his pal. 

‘‘Yes?" came back from Pant. 

“ How you standing it? " 

Pant retorted with a grim chuckle: 

“ Not so bad. Pretty wet out here." 

“ What — what'll we do?" 

“ Going to climb. Top to this thing some- 
where, maybe. Nobody knows, though. It's a 
typhoon. Always wanted to see what a plane'd 
do in a typhoon." 

“ You'll see, but never tell, maybe." 

“ Maybe." 

“ Look out — here she comes again ! It's — " 

“ Yes, it's — " Pant's voice seemed blown 
back into him by the terrific gust of wind. The 
next instant, a darkness such as he had never 
seen; a tumult such as he had never heard; a 
torrent of rain such as he had never witnessed; 
a wild whirling such as he had never experi- 
enced, drove all power of thought from his be- 
fuddled brain, leaving him again a half-ani- 
mate, over-large punching-bag, swinging in the 
narrow center of the cabin. 


A Plane in a Typhoon 131 

Even in this dizzy state of half-conscious- 
ness he thought of Pant. When told that he 
might not escape disaster, he had not said, ‘‘ I 
have escaped before.’’ He might have said it, 
for there had been other adventures; a night 
in a forest in India, with a mad black leopard’s 
eyes gleaming at him out of the darkness; an 
hour in a dungeon-dark cave, with murderous 
savages about him. There had been other ad- 
ventures, too, and he had escaped; yet he did 
not say, I will again.” That was the kind 
of fellow he was. Confident of his ability, in- 
terested in all of life, thrilled by each new ex- 
perience, he stood ready to face each one as it 
came and do battle valiantly, leaving the results 
to a power greater, a mind wiser, than his own. 

At this moment when Johnny was thinking 
these thoughts. Pant was being dragged for- 
ward half out of his soggy, water-soaked har- 
ness, then slammed back into his seat, to be del- 
uged to the drowning by a downpour that was 
not rain, he thought, but more like a sky-sus- 
pended tank of fresh water. He found himself 


132 


White Fire 


surprised that the plane held up against it; that 
it did not sink at once into the sea. His leather 
coat hung like a weight of steel upon his 
shoulders; his eyes, his ears, his mouth were 
filled with water. It chilled, benumbed, de- 
pressed him. 

The plane was traveling with the gale ; 
whether in a circle or straight ahead, he could 
not tell. The engine was shut ofif. Would it 
start again at his bidding? That he did not 
know. If not, their situation was hopeless. The 
time would come when the storm would drop 
them, as it drops a bird it has harried and beaten 
to its death. Then, with no power, they would 
sink helpless into the sea. And such a sea as 
it must be ! He had not seen it since the storm 
began. He could imagine it, though. Black, 
angry water tossed into foam. Billows, moun- 
tain high. What a landing-place for a sea- 
plane ! One resounding crash that echoed above 
the demon laughter of the waves, then all would 
be over ! 

She must start ! She must,’’ he muttered. 


A Plane in a Typhoon 133 

Half-unconsciously he put his hand to the lever, 
then quickly drew it away. 

No, not now, not now,’’ he muttered. ‘The 
dust! The dust! If only it is still dry!” 

Then, for a moment, his mind dwelt upon 
the wind. It was strange about that wind. It 
did not come in gusts, but flowed straight on 
like a stream of water. In the utter darkness, 
flooded by torrents of rain, carried steadily for- 
ward by that constant flow of wind, he was 
overcome by an illusion. He fancied himself 
passing beneath the surface of the sea. Only 
the touching of his tongue to his lips, to satisfy 
his mind that this was not salt water that beat 
in from every side, could dispel the illusion. 

The whole thing was so terrific, so altogether 
beyond comprehension, that it shunted off the 
powers that drove his brain to action. It was 
altogether unbelievable. 

As Johnny Thompson’s mind cleared itself of 
the effects of the airship’s mad whirl, it began 
puzzling over certain questions: What was to 
be the end of this? Why where they there? 


134 


White Fire 


The truth was, Johnny did not know why 
they were there. They had come upon this long 
and perilous air journey over the sea at the 
request of a stranger. No, perhaps they had 
not been as mad as that. The man had brought 
with him a letter of introduction from their 
employer. Yet, why should he not have told 
them more of his intentions? How could this 
journey benefit tens of thousands of children? 
They were in imminent danger of being de- 
stroyed by the storm. He felt that it would 
help if only he knew the reason why. 

There came another whirl. He caught his 
breath and tried to think clearly. It was a 
monstrous experience; he could not think of it 
in any other way. 

Can’t last long — wonder we haven’t hit 
the water before this. Must have been mighty 
high up.” 

To his surprise and great relief, the plane 
again righted herself. This time, half on her 
side, she lay upon the air like a crippled bird 
poising for its death plunge. 


A Plane in a Typhoon 135 

His lips were at the tube. 

What you going to do ? ’’ he shouted above 
the roar of the wind. 

''Going — to — get — out — of — here/' came 
back. 

" Can — you?" 

" Can — try. Look — out. Start — engine. 
May — take — tailspin. Can't — be — worse, 
— though." 

The next instant there came the thunder of 
the powerful motor. 

" Thank God ! Dust's dry," Pant muttered 
as he tried to straighten up his tilted car. 

When he heard the thunder of the motors. 
Pant could scarcely have been more thankful 
about anything. True, there were not another 
such pair of engines in the world, but there 
had been a strain put upon every bolt, rod, 
feed-pipe and screw such as had been endured 
by no other engines. If there had been a single 
break, then all was lost. 

When they did respond to his touch, he at 
once tilted his right plane in such a manner as 


136 


White Fire 


to square her up. The wind was blowing stead- 
ily, and, he thought, less violently, though this 
was hard to concede, since it seemed to him 
that a more madly violent gale than even now 
was blowing would be hard to imagine. 

The plane righted herself gracefully. Truly, 
this was a marvelous bit of machinery, made 
by master builders. She had been designed for 
dependability rather than speed, yet she pre- 
sented a rather rakish appearance, her upper 
planes jutting out over the lower ones by a full 
five feet. Her fuselage was built like the body 
of a wasp, in two parts. In the forward part 
was the driver’s seat, fully exposed to the open 
air. In the rear portion was a closed cabin 
fitted with two seats. These seats in fair 
weather might be made to collapse in snch a 
manner as to form a bed. Thus it was possible 
for one aviator to rest while the other was at the 
wheel. 

But the distinctive part of the whole equip- 
ment was the engines. If Pant had felt any 
misgivings about the type of engine their plane 


A Plane in a Typhoon 


137 


was fitted with, the next few minutes made him 
doubly thankful that they were just what they 
were. 

Hardly had they begun a mad rush straight 
away with the wind, the nose of the plane 
tilted twenty-five degrees upward, than there 
began to play about him vivid sparks of fire. 

Picking up lightning,’’ he muttered. 

Like lights twinkling on the deck of a steamer 
the sparks leaped from plane to plane. They 
flashed down the guy-wires and braces, leaped 
to the motors. Setting her firing irregularly 
for a second, they raced for the tail, only to 
flash back to the wheel and give Pant’s arm 
such a sudden twist that for the second he was 
paralyzed. 

The next moment his lips were at the tube. 

Mighty bad,” he shouted. ‘‘ Dangerous — 
I — I — say.” 

Better — stop — her,” came back from 
Johnny. 

Pant’s hand was at the lever. The engine 
went still, but just at that instant a tremendous 


138 White Fire 

flash leaped up from the large tank at the rear 
of the fuselage. 

Pant leaped high, then sank back with a 
shudder. 

“Man! Man!” he gasped. “If that had 
been gasoline in that tank ! If it had ! ” 

His brow wrinkled. “ I only hope it didn’t 
rip her wide open. Anyway, we climbed some. 
Can afford to glide.” 

They were surrounded by a succession of 
vivid flashes of lightning. The plane was 
tipped to a rakish angle. Through a storm- 
washed window Johnny saw what lay below. 
The ocean, vast, mysterious, dark and terrible, 
appeared as a limitless open-hearth steel furnace 
filled with gleaming molten metal. 

In the very midst of this was what appeared 
at first to be a mere splotch on the surface, but 
which in time resolved itself into the form of 
a steamship. 

He gasped as he made out its form, “ To 
think,” he muttered, “ that any ship could live 
in this!” 


A Plane in a Typhoon 


139 


Yet, as he thought of it, he knew that they 
had in years past. He had read authentic ac- 
counts of ships riding out such a storm. 

Even as he watched he saw the water smooth 
out into what he knew to be the surface of a 
gigantic wave; saw, amid the flashes, the ship 
leap forward to meet it ; saw her prow rest on 
air; saw her plunge; saw her buried beneath an 
avalanche of sea. 

He shut his eyes, expecting never again to 
see that ship; yet, when he opened them, she 
was still there battling with the elements. 

Bravo ! Bravo ! ” he exclaimed involun- 
tarily. 

The next instant the plane tipped back into 
position, the engines roared, he felt her turn 
and knew that Pant had set her head-on against 
the storm. 

He listened to the roar of the engines and 
thrilled at the battle as he felt the shock of the 
storm. 

Suddenly, as the sheet-lighning flashed, he 
saw a dark object pass his window, then another. 


140 


White Fire 


The parachutes ! he exclaimed in conster- 
nation. He put his lips to the tube : Storm — 
tore — the — parachutes — away.'’ 

I — know/' came back from Pant. No — 
good — now, — anyway. Can't — land." 

Then at the very thought, Johnny laughed. 
On a calm sea the parachutes might save them; 
in such a storm, never. 

Saw — a — ship — down — there. See — 
her?" he asked a moment later. 

Yes." 

Think — that's — the — ship — we’re — 
racing?" 

Might — be." 

If — it — is — we — win." 

« If 

— we — live — through, — yes." 

There was silence. But again there came a 
sound from the tube. This time it was not 
Pant, but the stranger who rode behind Johnny. 
Johnny started; he had quite forgotten him. 

‘^What — what is it?" he stammered. 

Thought — I — ought — to — tell — you." 
The voice was low and subdued, like a parson 


141 


A Plane in a Typhoon 

reading the funeral service at a grave. 

‘‘ Tell — me — what ? ” Johnny asked, be- 

wildered. 

About — the — wreck. Why — we — ^are 
going — ’’ 

But at that instant there came a blinding 
flash, a deafening roar, and the plane seemed 
to leap into midair, like a rowboat hit by a 
fifty-pound projectile. 


CHAPTER X 

THE TASTE OF SALT SEA WATER 

When he had collected his scattered sense's 
after the tremendous lift which the plane had 
been subjected to, Johnny Thompson knew that 
they must have been in the midst of a terrific 
electrical explosion which had occurred in mid- 
air; a current of electricity such as no mere 
man-made voltmeter would ever measure had 
leaped from cloud to cloud. For a fraction of 
a second the circuit had been broken. The ex- 
plosion had followed. 

Pressing his lips to Pant’s tube, Johnny in- 
quired curiously: 

Any — damage ? ” 

Can’t — tell — yet,” came back. Hope — 
not.” 

For a moment there was no sound, save the 
screaming of the wind. Then, again, came the 
call of the stranger. 


142 


The Taste of Salt Sea Water 143 

Hello ! exclaimed Johnny. 

‘'About — the — wreck. Ought — to — tell. 
May — not — come — out — of — this. You 
— may — come — out. Can — you — hear ? ” 

“Yes, — yes!” Johnny was impatient of 
delay. 

“ Ought — to — tell. Mighty — important. 
Wreck — mighty — important. Lot — of — 
people — affected. Children — most. Ought — 
to — tell.” 

“Well, why doesn’t he tell?” was Johnny’s 
mental comment. “ Has the storm driven him 
mad?” 

He wanted to know about that wreck. His 
life was imperiled for a cause, but what cause 
he did not know. His mission in life, he had 
found out long ago, was to help others live 
more happily and profitably. If the cause were 
a good enough cause, he might cheerfully die 
for it. “ Children,” the man had said, “ many 
children.” Well, that was best of all: to help 
many children. 


144 


White Fire 


^‘Well/' Johnny grumbled through the tube, 
why — don't — you — tell? " 

Going — to — tell," came to Johnny through 
the tube. Then the Professor told his story. 
There was a pause between every pair of words ; 
the wail of the storm, the thunder of the engines, 
the roar of the ocean, made it necessary. 
Even so, he was forced to repeat several sen- 
tences over and over before Johnny caught 
them. It was aggravating, doubly so since 
any word might be the man's last; might be 
the last Johnny ever listened to, as well. There 
was one word the man repeated ten times or 
more, and, at that, Johnny did not catch it. 
It was an important word, too, the most im- 
portant word, the very keyword, but Johnny 
gave it up at last. 

“ Isn't any use," he muttered after the tenth 
time. Some great treasure, but whether it's 
gold or diamonds, or old ivory or frankincense. 
I'll never be able to tell, if I ask him a thousand 
times." 

The stranger, it seemed, was a professor in 


The Taste of Salt Sea Water 145 

a medical college; his brother, a medical mis- 
sionary in one of those border countries that lie 
between China and Russia. During the war 
something became very scarce, but just what 
something Johnny could not make out. He, the 
Professor, wrote his brother about it. The 
something came from Russia — only place it 
could be obtained. There was fighting still in 
those regions where it was found, between the 
bolsheviki and their enemies. Children in the 
United States, it seemed, tens of thousands of 
them, would benefit if it were brought out from 
Russia. Johnny could not see how that could 
be. “ Perhaps the mine belongs to an orphan- 
age,” he decided, half in humor, half in earnest. 

The Professor had written his missionary 
brother of the need. He had written that he 
thought that, for the sake of the children, the 
thing must be managed. It could be carried 
out, the treasure could. It would require a con- 
siderable investment, perhaps twenty thousand 
dollars. The Professor had sold his home, had 
raked and scraped, borrowed and begged. At 


146 


White Fire 


last the money was sent to the brother. 

Months of anxious waiting followed. Finally 
there came a cable from an obscure Chinese 
port. The missionary brother had the precious 
stuff and was boarding the Men-Cheng,” a 
tramp steamer, manned half by Chinamen and 
half by white men. She bore a Chinese name 
but carried an American flag. 

He had not trusted the officers and steward 
of her overmuch, so, instead of putting his 
treasure in their hands, he had chartered a two- 
berth stateroom and had carried it with him in 
four flat chests. Piling three of them on the 
lower berth, and sliding the other beneath, he 
had slept in the berth above. 

That cable was the last ever heard from him. 
The steamer had been caught in a gale and 
driven upon the shore of a coral island, as 
Johnny already knew. The missionary brother 
did not appear with the rescued members of 
passengers and crew. All these survivors had 
been questioned, but none knew anything about 
what became of him. It seemed probable that 


The Taste of Salt Sea Water 147 

he had come on deck in the storm and had been 
washed overboard. 

And the treasure was there still. Beyond 
question, it was in that stateroom where he had 
stored it, since none but him knew of it. 

The wrecking crew, more than likely, was a 
gang of ghouls, with no principle, and with no 
knowledge of such things, anyway. They 
would either dump the treasure into the sea 
or carry it away. In either case it would be a 
total loss, and the small fortune of the Profes- 
sor would be gone forever. It seemed, however, 
that the Professor was more concerned about 
the children’s share than he was about his own. 

What sort of treasure could it be,” Johnny 
asked himself, that even the roughest, most 
ignorant rascals would dump into the sea?” 

Bunch of nonsense,” he muttered. Yet 
there was something about the intense earnest- 
ness of the man that gripped him, convinced 
him that it was not nonsense, but that here was 
a truly great and worthy cause. 

^ Suddenly it came to him that, were he to out- 


148 


White Fire 


live the stranger and reach the wreck, he would 
have no means of identifying the chests. Again 
his lips were at the tube. 

“ The — chests ! he shouted, the — chests 

‘‘Yes — yes,” came back. 

“The — chests. How — can — you — iden- 
tify—” 

His sentence was broken halfway. There 
came such a thundering, grinding, screaming 
horror of noises as he had never heard, not 
even in this hurricane. The seaplane stood 
still. Her engines were going, but she did not 
move. It was as if the shaft had broken loose 
from the propeller and was running wild, yet 
Johnny knew this was not so. He knew that 
the violence of the storm had suddenly become 
so great that the plane could make no head- 
way before it. 

So there they stood, halted in mid-air. What 
must come next? Was this the end? These 
questions burned their way to the very depths 
of his throbbing brain. 

He had not long to wait for action. The 


The Taste of Salt Sea Water 149 

plane began to turn slowly about. It was as 
if it were set upon a perpendicular shaft, and 
a mighty hand was gripping and turning it 
against its motor’s power to resist. 

Then the thunder of the engines ceased ; 
Pant had foreseen the ultimate end of the 
struggle and had prepared himself for it. 

The plane swung around, square with the 
wind, then began a glide which increased in 
speed with each fraction of a second. Pant 
was dragged from his seat by the mere force 
of the air. With nostrils flattened, eyes closed, 
body bent like a western rider’s, as he is thrown 
in the air by a bucking bronco, he still clung 
to the wheel and guided the craft as best he 
could. 

Feeling himself constantly drawn to the 
right, he realized that they were not gliding 
straight downward, but were following a gi- 
gantic spiral — perhaps miles across. He shud- 
dered. He had experienced something similar 
to this in his boyhood days — the spiral glide 
of the amusement park. Yet that was child’s 


150 


White Fire 


play. This was grim reality, and at the end 
of the glide lay the remorseless, plunging sea. 

Johnny Thompson and the Professor sat in 
their cabin, too much overcome to move or 
speak. Through Johnny’s mind there ran 
many wild thoughts. Now the past, his home, 
his friends, his mother, were mirrored before 
his mind’s vision. The next he was contem- 
plating freeing himself from his harness and 
opening the cabin door. To be trapped in that 
cabin, strapped to his seat, as they took the 
plunge into the sea, would be terrible. Better 
that he might have one fierce battle with the 
ocean. Yet there was still a chance — a ghost 
of a chance — some startling development that 
might save them. Then, if he were loose in 
the cabin, the cabin door open, he would be 
shaken out to his death while the plane flew 
on to safety. 

He ended by doing nothing at all, and the 
plane, holding true to her spiral glide, swung 
on toward the dark waters. The spiral seemed 
endless. One might almost have imagined that 


The Taste of Salt Sea Water 151 

the storm had an upward twist and was shoot- 
ing them toward the skies. 

A moment’s flash o£ lightning undeceived 
them. The sea lay close beneath them, peril- 
ously close; almost it appeared to be lifting 
up hands to grasp them. 

Johnny Thompson at last began to strug- 
gle with his harness. Pant licked his lips 
with his tongue and thereby received a revela- 
tion. The moisture on his lips was salt; they 
were in the midst of the salt spray of some 
titanic wave. The end was not far off. 

In desperation he kicked the engines into 
gear. There followed a moment of suspense. 
Thinking of it afterward, not one of the three 
could account for what followed. Perhaps 
the current of air created by some on-rushing 
wave had lifted them; perhaps the very force 
of the powerful engines had torn them from 
the grip of the remorseless spiral glide. What- 
ever it was, they suddenly found themselves 
booming along over the raging sea, and with 
each hundred yards covered there came a less- 


152 


White Fire 


ening of the wind’s violence. It seemed that 
they were truly on their way to safety. 

Johnny started as from a revery. The sig- 
nal from the Professor’s speaking-tube was 
screaming insistently. 

Hello!” he shouted hoarsely. 

‘‘Those — chests,” came back through the 
tube. “ Do — you — hear — me ? Those — 
chests — they — are — marked — with — ini- 
tials — L — B — on the bottom. Do — you — 
hear ? L — like — lake. B — like — bird. Get 
it?” 

“ Yes,” Johnny answered. 

“All-right.” 

Again, save for the thunder of the engines 
and the diminishing howl of the wind, there 
was silence. 

“Wish I had tried harder to get the name 
of those things in the four chests,” Johnny 
mused. “ I’d like mighty well to know. Didn’t 
sound like anything I have ever heard of. Per- 
haps it’s some kind of Russian fur; new name 
for Russian sable, maybe. Guess there’s no 


The Taste of Salt Sea Water 153 

use asking him about it now. Too much noise; 
couldn’t hear.” 

Then his mind turned to the steamer they 
had seen struggling in that raging sea. He 
wondered if it had escaped. 

Hope so,” he murmured, even if they 
are our rivals. We’ll beat them easily if we 
get out of this. Looks like we would, too.” 

Then, suddenly, his face went gray. He had 
thought of something — the dust in the fuel 
tank! There would have been enough to carry 
them to their destination, and a little to spare, 
had they not encountered the storm. They had 
battled the storm for what seemed hours. This 
had consumed much fuel. What awaited them 
once they were free from this storm? 

He put his mouth to Pant’s speaking-tube, 
but the message remained unspoken. 

“ No use to cross a bridge till we come to it,” 
he muttered. '' Not out of the storm yet.” 


CHAPTER XI 

LIFE’S HAZARD OF A SINGLE GLIDE 

The coming out of the storm was like riding 
out of night into the bright light of a new 
day. Pant, as he sat at the wheel, steering as 
in a dream, was entranced by the beauty and 
wonder of it. They had been near death a 
score of times in a single hour; now they were 
racing away to life. Life! What a wonder- 
ful privilege just to live! How foolish boys 
must be who risk life for some useless play- 
thing — to accept a ‘‘dare” or experience 
some new thrill. So he mused, and then all 
at once he realized that they had risked their 
lives for a cause of which they knew little. 

“ Well,” he said, as he settled himself more 
firmly in his position behind the wheel, “ weVe 
come this far, so weVe got to see it through. 
I wonder how far that storm has carried us 


154 


Lifers Hazard of a Single Glide 155 

off our course, and in what direction we are 
going now?” 

Rubbing the moisture off the glass of his 
compass, he read their direction. Then he 
started. They were going north by east, and 
their course was set for south by southwest. 

Pant stared at the compass. 

‘‘ Whew ! ” he whistled. “ At that rate, we’ll 
be back where we started from in due course 
of time.” 

Then a new thought worried him. He, too, 
had remembered the dust in the fuel tank. It 
must be running low. He could not tell their 
exact position, but believed they were far 
nearer to a small group of islands which they 
had sighted shortly before the storm struck 
them than they were to their destination. 

Immediately there was set up in his mind a 
tense conflict. It’s better to keep going in 
your present direction and to seek safety with 
a fresh supply of fuel from those islands you 
just passed,” said his native caution. ‘^You 
have no right to turn back, for if you do you 


156 


White Fire 


are sure to lose the race/’ said his instinctive 
loyalty to the cause of another. 

Loyalty won the day, and with mouth grimly 
set he gradually turned the plane about. Skirt- 
ing the fringe of the storm, he sent the plane 
speeding on her way. 

Gradually the smoke of battle — the mists 
that lay low on the horizon — disappeared, and 
they emerged into the glorious sunlight. The 
ocean lay a glittering mass of jewels beneath 
them, jewels that sparkled on a robe of em- 
erald green. The sky, a vast blue dome, lay 
spread above them, while a few white clouds 
skirted the horizon. Behind them, like the up- 
lifted head of a terrible sea-dragon, the storm 
still reared its masses of tumult to the heavens. 

‘^TBat,” said Pant through his mouthpiece, 

was the worst I ever saw.” 

Johnny Thompson threw back his head and 
laughed. A merry laugh it was. It was easy 
to laugh when they were free. 

For an hour the plane held steadily on its 
course — south by southwest. It was a won- 


Lifers Hazard of a Single Glide 157 

derful journey. Weary as he was and prone 
to fall asleep at his post, Pant enjoyed it. Here 
and there they passed flocks of sea-gulls that 
rose screaming from the sea. Once they raced 
for a few miles with a honking wedge of wild 
geese. The presence of this flock made Pant 
think they must be near some land. What 
land it might be he could not even guess, but 
the thought cheered him. 

For an hour, an hour and a quarter, an hour 
and a half, they sped on. Both boys had for- 
gotten the question of fuel. Johnny was 
puzzling over the name of the contents of the 
chests on the wreck; Pant was wondering about 
the fate of the ship they had sighted in the 
storm, when there came a hoarse rumble from 
the right-hand engine, and the thunder of their 
drivers was lessened by half. 

With trembling hand Pant threw the lever 
out. The other motor was still going, but he 
realized that it would be but a matter of mo- 
ments until that one also was dead. 

Instinctively, as if preparing to run away 


158 


White Fire 


from the ocean, which, having been lashed by 
the storm, must still be rolling in great, sweep- 
ing waves that would wreck their frail craft 
the instant she touched its surface, he tilted 
the planers nose to a sharp angle and set her 
climbing. 

They had been traveling some three thou- 
sand feet above the sea. Now they climbed 
rapidly. Four thousand, and five thousand, six, 
seven, eight, nine thousand. They were now 
entering a filmy cloud that sent long waving 
arms down to clutch them. Now and again 
they '' bumped,’’ dropping straight down a hun- 
dred feet, then rising again. It was a glorious 
experience, even if it might be their last. 

With ears alert, as are the ears of a man 
expecting the sentence of death. Pant awaited 
the last hoarse cough of the engine. 

Finally it came; a grinding whirr, a tremor 
running through the plane, as a shudder runs 
through the form of a dying animal, then all 
was silence. 

It was such a silence as none of the three had 


Lifers Hazard of a Single Glide 159 

ever experienced. For hours they had listened 
to the scream of the storm, to the roar of break- 
ers, to the thunder of their engines. For an- 
other hour and a half they had listened to the 
engines alone. Now there was utter silence; a 
silence so intense that, had a feather been falF 
ing from a sea-gull’s wing, it seemed that its 
passage through the air might be heard. 

The plane had broad, spreading wings. It 
would float with easy grace to the very surface 
of the sea. But then? 

There was plenty of time to think now. No 
one cared to speak. Their minds were con- 
cerned about many things. Life as they had 
lived it lay spread out before them like the 
pages of a picture-book. All the past moved 
before them. They came to the end, at last, 
and thus to the question of the ship in the 
storm and the wreck on the desert island. Had 
the ship escaped from the storm? Was the 
wreck still intact, or had it been destroyed by 
the waves? Would the wreckers find the 
treasure? What then? 


160 


White Fire 


Slowly the plane drifted down. Eight thou- 
sand feet, seven thousand, six, five, four, three. 

Suddenly Pant moved in his seat. Seizing 
his tube in his excitement, forgetting that they 
might easily speak to one another since the 
sound of the engines was gone, he shouted: 

Listen!’’ 

Johnny threw open the door of the cabin 
and sat listening. 

'' I only hear the waves,” he said. 

Two kinds of sounds, thoug^h,” smiled Pant ; 
‘^a steady wash and a thundering.” 

'^Yes, I hear them.” 

‘^The thundering means land.” 

“Eh?” Johnny gazed down toward the 
wide circle of the sea. “ But where ? ” 

It was true. From this point in the air, 
though they could see for many miles, only the 
unbroken expanse of dark green waters met 
their view. 

“ There ! ” exclaimed Pant in triumph. He 
was pointing to a long line of white. “That’s 
surf. Some coral island there. Surf’s break- 


Life's Hazard of a Single Glide 161 

ing over it. If vre can make the lee of it we’re 
safe.” 

He brought the nose of the plane about until 
it pointed toward the white line. Silence fol- 
lowed — a silence that could almost be felt. 
Only the murmur of vast waters and the dis- 
tant thunder of the breakers, like the falls of 
a great river, disturbed that silence. Their 
lives depended on the length of a single glide. 

Johnny Thompson opened two small round 
windows, portholes to the cabin. The Profes- 
sor, sensing the tenseness of the situation, with- 
out fully understanding it, did likewise. Then 
the three of them watched the rolling ocean as 
it rose up to meet them. 

Now they appeared to be a mile from that 
white line of foam. They were twenty-eight 
hundred feet in air. At fifteen hundred feet 
they appeared to be scarcely half a mile away. 
Beneath them rolled the treacherous waves; 
before them the breakers roared. Just over that 
crest of foam there lay a narrow bay, still 
as a millpond. Could they make it? Pant 


162 


White Fire 


lifted a trembling hand to his forehead to brush 
away cold perspiration. Johnny stirred uneasily. 
Only the Professor was silent. Motionless as 
a sphinx, he watched the ocean spin along 
beneath him. 

Gradually as they sank lower and lower ob- 
jects became distinct to them. The north end 
of the island appeared to rise some twenty feet 
above the sea. The south end was lower. The 
whole of it was lined with a fringe of palms. 

Better turn her a bit south,’’ Johnny sug- 
gested. It’s lower there and less chance of a 
smash.” 

Without a word Pant followed his directions. 

Lower and lower they drifted. Closer and 
closer came the island. For a time it seemed 
that they must inevitably drop into the sea. 
Then it appeared that they would miss the ocean 
but drive into the palms. 

A hundred feet in air they swept on. Catch- 
ing his breath, Pant unbuckled his harness. 
Johnny and the Professor followed his example. 
The next second, with a strange, land-like 


Lifers Hazard of a Single Glide 163 

breath of air sweeping up to them, they passed 
over the very fringe-tops of the palms. One 
moment later they were standing up in their 
craft, which gently rose and fell with the water. 
Without a word they solemnly shook hands. 

There are moments in the life of every person 
when he feels himself so closely welded to the 
life of some other one that only death can sep- 
arate them. Johnny felt that such a time had 
arrived in his life. He and Pant were already 
inseparable. Now, by this simple, silent hand- 
shake, they took the Professor into their narrow 
circle. They had suifered in peril together. 

They were now on a narrow island of the Pa- 
cific in a seaplane without fuel, and with pro- 
visions for but a day. Come what might, they 
would stick together until the end. 

Their first precaution was to bring their plane 
as close in shore as the shallow water would per- 
mit, then to anchor it securely. After that they 
unfolded a small, collapsible boat and prepared 
to make their way ashore. 

'inhabited or not?’’ smiled Pant. 


164 


White Fire 


inhabited, cannibal or otherwise?’" 
Johnny smiled back. 

'' I hope we are not to tarry here long,” said 
the Professor. 

We’ll tarry until we discover some fuel, and 
I don’t think green palm trees will be of much 
use,” said Johnny seriously. ‘‘ Have you any- 
thing to suggest? ” 

The Professor seemed inclined to take these 
remarks as being in the form of a joke, but see- 
ing that Johnny was serious, he said, as his 
brow wrinkled: 

‘‘ It is really very important that we be on 
our way. We cannot be more than a hundred 
miles from our destination.” 

Perhaps not even that,” said Pant, but 
they may be very hard miles to travel.” 

If we only were there,” sighed Johnny. 

There is sure to be coal on the wreck.” 

But, since we’re not, let’s explore our 
island,” suggested Pant. 

‘‘And sleep,” said Johnny. “ Pm about to fall 
asleep as I walk.” 


Lifers Hazard of a Single Glide 165 

“Better bring the rifles/’ suggested Pant. 
“ Doesn’t seem likely that there is a single liv- 
ing soul on this island — it’s no more than a 
coral rock sticking up out of the sea; can’t be 
two miles long — but you never can tell.” 

Johnny brought two rifles from the plane. 
After rubbing the moisture from their barrels, 
he slipped a handful of cartridges in each, and 
set them up in the bow of the boat. 

Pant had already gathered up an armful of 
sacks and cans, enough food for a day ashore. 
Throwing these into the bottom of the boat, he 
exclaimed: “All aboard for no man’s land.” 

Then all climbed in. Johnny took the oars. 
Ten minutes of rowing brought them ashore. 

It was a strange sensation that came to them 
as they stepped on solid ground once more. 
They had been swinging and tossing about for 
so long that solid earth seemed unreal — only 
part of a dream. 

“ Don’t see a sign of life,” said Johnny as he 
glanced up and down the beach, then into the 
depths of the palms. 


166 


White Fire 


Here’s a bit of bamboo that looks as if it 
had been cut with a knife,” said Pant. 

‘‘ Might have drifted in,” suggested Johnny. 
Other than this they found no sign of life. 

After a brief consultation they decided that, 
simply as a matter of precaution, they should 
make the rounds of the shore before settling 
down to sleep. 

Night would be coming on in an hour, so, 
after partaking of a hasty repast, the two boys, 
armed with the rifles, struck up the beach to 
the right. The Professor was left to keep an 
eye on the plane. 

Nothing eventful happened until the boys had 
made three-fourths of their journey. As they 
had expected, they had found no sign of human 
life on the island. Night was falling; the sea 
was growing calm after the storm; they were 
looking forward to a few hours of refreshing 
sleep when, of a sudden, as they rounded a 
clump of palms, Johnny sprang backward, and, 
clutching his companion’s arm, dragged him 
into the deeper shadows. 


Life's Hazard of a Single Glide 167 

‘‘Wha — what is it?’’ stammered Pant. 

“A camp fire on the beach, and men, six or 
eight of them, I think, sitting about it. Natives, 
I should judge.” 

For a time the boys stood there in silence. It 
was a tense moment. Each in his own way 
was trying to solve the problem that had sud- 
denly thrust itself upon them. Should they 
show themselves to the natives, or should they 
try to discover some way to escape from the 
islands? 

I don’t think,” said Pant, as if talking to 
himself, ‘‘ that we can get off the island without 
their aid.” 

‘‘A ship might appear,” suggested Johnny. 

Not likely,” said Pant. We’re too far off 
the beaten path of sea travel.” 

'‘All right. C’m’on,” said Johnny, as he led 
the way out into the open where the camp fire 
gleamed. 


CHAPTER XII 
FLYING KNIVES 

The two boys approached the strangers with 
rifles loosely slung under their arms, as if they 
had just come from hunting. The men about 
the fire showed no signs of surprise. They did 
not leap to their feet nor attempt to glide away. 
They merely turned their heads at the sound of 
footsteps, then sat there watching as the boys 
approached. 

Pant took the lead. He had lived among men 
of many climes, and would doubtless be better 
able to understand these strangers. Reaching 
the edge of the circle he sat down by the fire, 
motioning Johnny to do the same. 

For several moments the little group sat in 
silence. Out of the corner of his eyes, Johnny 
studied the strangers. There were five heavily- 
built, raw-boned fellows with dark skins and 


168 


Flying Knives 


169 


thick lips. They were dressed merely in breech- 
clouts. There were two small brown boys with 
the squint eyes of Orientals. 

'' Couple of Japs and their serfs/' was his 
mental comment. 

Presently one of the Orientals dug from the 
ashes of the fire two roasted sweet potatoes. 
These he offered to the guests. After that he 
supplied each member of his own group in the 
same manner. 

Johnny noticed that there was a little pile of 
these potatoes on the beach, also two brown 
hempen sacks full of some commodity. These 
sacks were tied tightly at the top. 

They ate the potatoes with great relish. After 
that they were given water to drink. 

When they at last attempted to engage the 
strangers in conversation, they found them 
quite incapable of understanding English. 

Finally Pant, growing tired of the effort, rose 
and strode down to the beach where the brown 
sacks were lying. He thumped one of the sacks, 
then lifted it from the ground. 


170 


White Fire 


‘'About a hundred pounds/’ he muttered. 
Then, turning, he walked back to the group by 
the fire. He had taken one hand from his 
pocket. In its palm reposed a shiny ten dollar 
gold piece. He pointed to the sack he had lifted, 
then offered the gold to the smaller of the two 
brown boys. 

The boy reached out his hand and took it. 

The act was repeated in reference to a second 
gold piece and the remaining sack. This offer 
was also accepted. 

“ They know the value of gold all right,” he 
smiled. “ I have bought two hundred pounds of 
rice. Let’s get it on our backs. I think if we 
cut right across beneath the palms here we will 
about strike our camp.” 

With the sacks of rice on their shoulders, they 
trudged on for a time in silence. At last Johnny 
spoke : 

“What do we want of all this rice?” 

“ Three people can live a long time on two 
hundred pounds of rice.” 

As he stepped out again into the moonlight 


Flying Knives 171 

he gazed about him for a time, then in a mus- 
ing tone said: 

I wonder where we’ll be to-morrow night. 
It’s going to work all right. The only question 
is, how many miles do you get out of a hun- 
dred pounds of rice?” 

The next morning, after they had taken their 
bearings. Pant said, “ Far as I can make out, 
we’re something like a hundred and fifty miles 
from the wreck. Question is, will our fuel carry 
us that far ? ” 

‘‘Our fuel? What fuel?” his two friends 
echoed. 

“ Yes,” smiled Pant, “ we have sortie fuel — 
two hundred pounds of it.” 

“ The rice ! ” exclaimed Johnny. “ I hadn’t 
thought of using it for that.” 

“ Well, perhaps we’d better not,” said Pant, 
wrinkling his brow. “ It’s all that stands be- 
tween us and starvation. Our brown friends 
left the island last night. “ What’s more,” he 
went on, “ I don’t know how much carbon there 
is in rice. Do either of you ? ” 


172 


White Fire 


They both answered in the negative. 

Well, there you are/’ said Pant. You see, 
if we can’t tell that, there is no way of guessing 
how far two hundred pounds of rice will carry 
us. It may let us down after we’ve gone fifty 
miles and dump us right into the ocean. And 
the next time we may not be as fortunate as we 
were this time in finding a safe harbor. Then 
again, we might land safely in the lee of an- 
other of these islands, only to find ourselves 
without a single mouthful of food. So you see 
there’s something of a hazard in it.” 

The Professor rose and began to pace back 
and forth. He was very plainly agitated. For 
fully five minutes he did not speak. Then he 
turned to face the boys. 

The need of haste,” he said slowly, is 
great. Nothing in the world, it seems to me, 
could be much more important. But you have 
risked your lives for the cause; I will not press 
you to do so again. You must decide for your- 
selves whether we shall take the venture or not. 
As for me, I am ready to go.” 


Flying Knives 


173 


Pant and Johnny looked at one another. Pant 
read Johnny's answer in his eyes. 

‘‘ Fair enough.” He sprang to his feet. 
‘‘ We go.” 

A half-hour's time was consumed in grind- 
ing a quantity of the rice, then they were away. 
The remaining rice might be ground and fed 
to the engines as they traveled. 

Pant was again at the wheel. On his face 
there was the strained look of one who con- 
stantly listens for some dread sound. They 
were flying low. Now and again his gaze 
swept the sea. Twice he dropped to an even 
lower level, as he fancied he caught the rush of 
waters upon an unseen shore. Each time he 
climbed back to their old level and they sped 
steadily onward. 

Fifty miles were recorded, then seventy-five. 
A hundred stretched to a hundred and twenty- 
five. 

Suddenly Pant's brow cleared. He climbed 
to a higher level. The engines stopped all at 
once. But this was because he had thrown back 


174 


White Fire 


the lever. As they glided silently down, there 
came to them the old welcome sound of break- 
ers. Johnny Thompson, leaning far out of the 
cabin, swept the sea with a pair of binoculars. 

Over to the right, he exclaimed. 

‘"Land?’’ asked the Professor. 

An island; ours, I think. A rocky promon- 
tory to the south, flat to the north, just as the 
sailors described it.’’ 

Thank God! We have made it! ” The Pro- 
fessor brushed cold perspiration from his brow. 

I was afraid — afraid of many things.” 

The motors were again started, only to be 
shut off five minutes later. Then they began the 
delightful circling journey which was to bring 
them to a safe harbor and their goal. This time 
there was no trying uncertainty; there was still 
fuel in their tank and they knew something of 
the place to which they were coming, 
hope we don’t have to.” 

We’ll go back and try for some sweet pota- 
toes in the morning. I think perhaps I’ll find 
another use for the rice.” 


Flying Knives 


175 


‘‘ What?’’ 

Pant did not answer. Funny bunch, those 
brown boys,” he mused. '' Don’t savvy Eng- 
lish, but they know Uncle Sam’s money, all right. 
It’s that way all over the world.” 

The island was very narrow. They soon 
found themselves on the beach facing the bay 
where the Dust Eater,” as they called the sea- 
plane, was anchored. 

It was decided that they should take turns at 
the watch, three hours to the watch. This would 
give each of them six hours of sleep and fit 
them for whatever of fortune or misfortune lay 
in their immediate future. 

The Professor took the first watch. Pant the 
second. Pant had hardly begun to pace the 
beach on his watch when there sounded across 
the waters the quick pop-pop-pop of a motor. 
His first thought was of the ‘‘ Dust Eater,” but 
immediately he laughed at his fears; the pop- 
ping was made by a much less powerful motor 
than those belonging to their seaplane. 

The sound came from toward the south end 


176 


White Fire 


of the island. Racing down the beach, trip- 
ping over sand-brush and bits of drift here and 
there, he managed to arrive in time to see the 
tail-light of a motorboat fast disappearing out 
on the sea. 

The Orientals and their men ! ’’ he exclaimed 
disgustedly. It was stupid of us not to keep 
track of them. They might have given us a lift 
to the very island we’re bound for. We were 
too played out to think clearly, though, and now 
they’re gone.” 

He walked slowly back toward their camp. 

Since that’s settled,” he thought to himself, 

it’s time I was trying something else. I’ll 
get at it at once.” 

Arrived at camp, he cut open one of the 
large sacks of rice and poured a quart of it 
in an aluminum kettle. Placing the kettle in the 
bottom of the canvas boat, he shoved off and was 
soon at the door of the cabin on the ^^Dust 
Eater.” 

For a moment he paused to gaze about him. 
He had never seen anything quite like the night 


177 


Flying Knives 

that lay spread out before him. The moon, 
a great, yellow ball, hung high in the heavens; 
the sea, now calm, lay sparkling in the moon- 
light, while the palms shot skyward, a blue- 
black fringe on the garment of night. 

He had little time for such reveries, however. 
There was work to be done. 

Once inside the cabin, he took up a trapdoor 
in its floor and, from the space beneath, drew 
out a strange circular arrangement. To this 
he attached wires running from a line of bat- 
teries hung securely against the walls. He 
next poured his quart of rice into a small hop- 
per at the top of the circular mechanism. There 
came a snap-snap as he threw in a switch. A 
whirling grinding sound followed. Presently, 
from a small tube, there began to pour forth a 
white powder, finer than the finest flour. This 
he caught in the kettle. 

Ought to work,” he mumbled, as the white 
pile in the bottom of the kettle grew to a siz- 
able cone. 

When the machine gave forth a strange new 


178 


White Fire 


sound, as of a feed-mill running empty, he 
snapped off the switch. 

Now we'll see," he murmured. 

Taking up the kettleful of white dust, he 
walked back to the fuel tank of the plane, and, 
with the aid of a funnel, poured in the powder. 
After screwing on the top, he went back to his 
old place at the wheel. 

He pressed a button here, threw a lever for- 
ward there, and at once there came the thunder 
of a motor. Quickly he threw back the lever. 
‘‘ Don't want to wake them." He stood up and 
peered shoreward. 

Satisfied that his companions had not been 
disturbed, he returned to the cabin and put 
things to rights. 

Wreck's to the southeast," said Johnny. 

I can see it plainly. Look's queer, though ; all 
white, as if there had been a recent snow." 

A moment later, as they circled lower, he 
laughed and exclaimed : Sea-gulls ! " 

It was true. The ship, but recently a staunch 
sea-craft, had become a roost for sea-gulls. 


Flying Knives 


179 


Literally thousands of them rose screaming into 
the air as the ‘‘ Dust Eater’' gracefully glided 
into the waters of the sheltered bay. 

There is no mystery in all the world greater 
than a deserted wreck. An old house, an aban- 
doned mill, a cabin in the forest, all these have 
their charm of mystery, but the wreck of a ship, 
laden with who knows what treasure, and aban- 
doned by her master, a wreck so remote from 
inhabited lands that it has not been visited since 
the night of its disaster, here was mystery 
indeed. 

So eager were they to board the craft that 
they could scarcely wait until the plane had been 
made fast and the canvas boat lowered. 

One question troubled Johnny: The seamen, 
taken from the wreck, had reported no native 
inhabitants of the island, yet some might have 
been hiding out in the rocky portion of the 
place, for this island was some three times the 
size of the island they had just left. 

As he climbed up the rope ladder which still 
dangled from her side, and sprang upon her 


180 


White Fire 


deck, slippery with guano deposited by the gulls, 
he kept a sharp watch for any signs of depre- 
dation done to the ship since she was deserted. 
He found none, and no signs of life on the 
main deck, but as he went down the hatch, he 
fancied he discovered the faint mark of a bare 
foot on one step. 

Their first thought was of the four chests. 

Was your brother’s berth on the main deck 
or below?” Johnny asked. 

That I cannot tell,” said the Professor. 

Probably main deck,” said Johnny, but 
you can’t be sure. You take the larboard side 
of the main deck, and. Pant, you take the star- 
board. I’ll go below and see what I can find. 
Some of the staterooms will be locked. We can 
search the open ones first, and pry the others 
open later if necessary. 

As he sprang down the hatchway, he fancied 
he heard a sound from below. For a moment 
he was tempted to turn back. Then with 

Probably only a sea-gull,” he dropped on down 
and began making his way along a dark com- 


Flying Knives 


181 


panionway. He had not gone ten paces when 
he heard a soft pat-pat of footsteps. The next 
moment a sharp exclamation escaped his lips. 

From the door of a stateroom had appeared 
a brown head, then another and another. 

Suddenly some object whizzed past his head, 
to strike with a sickening spat in the wall be- 
hind him. He did not need to be told it was a 
knife. 

The door of a stateroom stood open beside 
him. Instinctively he sprang inside and 
slammed it shut. He was not an instant too 
soon, for a second knife struck the door. Such 
force had been used in its throwing, so keen a 
blade it had, that the point of it struck through 
the wood the length of Johnny’s little finger. 

‘‘Well, now what?” he murmured. 

And then he thought of his companions. How 
was he to warn them before it was too late? 


CHAPTER XIII 
THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 

For a single minute Johnny Thompson re- 
mained behind the closed door ; then his fear for 
his companions drove him forth. Throwing the 
door wide open, he made a dash for it. Down 
the companionway and up the hatch he raced 
at full speed. 

The Professor was the first person he came 
across. 

''Where’s Pant?” he gasped. "Natives on 
board — murderous fellows ! ” 

" Where? ” 

" There ! ” A black form appeared on deck. 
"Dodge!” exclaimed Johnny, setting the ex- 
ample. " They throw knives ! ” 

It seemed, however, that this precaution was 
unnecessary, for the black man sprang to the 
gunwale, then leaped overboard. He was fol- 
lowed rapidly by two others. 

182 


The Mystery Deepens 183 

Pant had heard something of the commotion, 
and now came hurrying around the corner of 
a cabin. 

Natives,’’ explained Johnny.” Bad ones ! ” 

‘^Better get to the rifles,” breathed Pant. 

Can’t tell how many of them.” 

He leaped for the rope ladder. In another 
minute they were rowing rapidly for the Dust 
Eater.” As Johnny climbed to the cabin on the 
plane he looked back. There they go ! ” he 
exclaimed. 

It was true. A long, slender canoe, manned 
by four husky native paddlers, was shooting 
over the water at an incredible speed. They 
were striking boldly out to sea. 

‘‘ Guess they’re as afraid of us as we are of 
them,” smiled Johnny. 

Think that’s all of them? ” asked Pant. 

‘‘ Yes, that’s one more than I saw,” answered 
Johnny. 

"'We came at a fortunate time,” remarked 
the Professor. "They doubtless belong to an- 
other island and have discovered the wreck in 


184 White Fire 

passing. The whole tribe will be along pres- 
ently to loot it/' 

'' In that case/' said Johnny, '' we'd better 
work fast." 

''And get away before they come," said Pant. 
" Good idea. Plenty of coal to grind up for 
fuel. Perhaps we can get away before dark." 

After securing the rifles they hastened back 
to complete their search, confident that the 
treasure chests would be in their hands in short 
order. 

In a cabin formerly occupied by the chief 
steward, Johnny found a master key, which ex- 
pedited their work. With his two companions 
standing guard, Johnny was able to unlock one 
stateroom after another in rapid succession. 
One glance in each was enough to satisfy him 
that the chests were not to be found there. 

When they had made the entire rounds of 
the main deck, and had discovered no chests 
of any sort, their hopes fell a trifle. There re- 
mained, however, the lower deck. To this they 
hastened. When this search proved fruitless, 


The Mystery Deepens 185 

they stood for a minute silently looking at one 
another. 

The hurricane deck ! ’’ exclaimed the Pro- 
fessor. The officer's cabin ! " 

Thither they rushed. Here again they were 
unrewarded. 

''What could have happened?" asked the 
Professor in consternation. 

" You don't suppose he changed his mind and 
shipped them as cargo, do you? " asked Johnny. 

" I hardly think so," said the Professor, " yet 
all things are possible." 

" It's my opinion that those natives carried 
them off," said Pant. 

" Didn't in that canoe," objected Johnny. 
" Saw right into it. Wasn't a thing. Might 
have hid them on shore, though. I suggest that 
we go ashore and do a little searching, and pre- 
pare some sort of meal. There's food down in 
the galleys — canned stuff and the like." 

Leaving the Professor to keep watch, the two 
boys hurried down below, to reappear a few 
minutes later each with a dishpan full of cans. 


186 


White Fire 


jars and cartons of food of every description. 

“ Won’t starve, anyway,” panted Johnny. 

Yes, but whatever we do we’ve got to 
hurry,” said Pant. ‘‘ Those natives will be com- 
ing back. Then there’ll be no staying on the 
island for us. Natives are all right when there 
are plenty of white men about to make them be 
good, but give them three white men and a ship- 
load of loot and them about a hundred strong, 
then see how quickly the white men disappear.” 

Hurriedly they dumped their supplies into 
the canvas boat, then paddled rapidly for the 
shore. They were soon partaking of a hearty 
meal as they sat upon the fallen trunk of a 
giant palm in the shade of a delightfully cool 
grove. 

Johnny could scarcely finish his meal in his 
eagerness to explore that region of the island 
close to the shore. Before the others had fin- 
ished eating, he hastened around the end of the 
grove and came out upon the shore close to an 
out-jutting rocky cliflf. At the base of this cliff 
he paused in astonishment. Back a little from 


The Mystery Deepens 187 

the beach and against the end of the cliff was a 
rude cabin built of drift-wreckage from the 
ship. 

With much hesitation he approached the door 
of the cabin, which was a real door taken from 
the ship. Some white man ; no native built 
that,’’ he murmured as he knocked on the door. 

Getting no answer, he knocked again; this 
time louder. Still no response. Having turned 
the knob he was surprised to find that the door 
was not locked. Pushing it back, he looked 
within. Then, quickly closing it, he raced back 
to camp. 

Come see what I have found ! ” he ex- 
claimed. There must be at least one survivor 
of the wreck who did not escape with the ship’s 
crew. There is a cabin built of driftwood at 
the end of the cliff ! ” 

‘"A cabin! A cabin!” exclaimed the others, 
as they sprang up and prepared to follow him. 

An inspection of the cabin convinced them 
that it had been occupied for some time and had 
been but recently abandoned, if, indeed, the 


188 


White Fire 


builder might not be expected back at any mo- 
ment. Some garments of an oriental design 
hung upon the wall. 

Wonder if he’s a Chinaman? ” said Johnny. 

There was a well-built bunk on one side of 
the room, and on the opposite a wood-burning 
stove improvised out of empty gasoline cans. 
There was a small table, a ship’s chair and a 
box of dishes, also a handmade set of shelves 
well stocked with ship supplies. 

As the Professor rummaged about one corner 
of the room his hand fell upon an object which 
immediately absorbed his attention. For a few 
minutes he stood staring at it. Then he whis- 
pered to himself: 

‘‘Could it be possible? If it only were!” 

To the boys he said nothing, but Johnny saw 
an unaccountable new light of hope in his eyes. 
“ I wonder,” he said, “ if this man could have 
discovered the chests and brought them ashore 
for safe keeping? ” 

“ I have been wondering that myself,” said 
the Professor. “ It’s worth looking into.” 


The Mystery Deepens 189 

In the meanwhile, where is he?’^ asked 
Pant. 

'' The natives may have done for him,’' sug- 
gested Johnny. 

A cloud passed over the Professor’s face. 
'' Let us hope not,” he said quickly. After a 
moment’s thought, he added: We must search 
the island thoroughly. We must find the chests 
and that man.” 

Do you know,” he said suddenly, drawing 
an object from his pocket, that is the razor 
I learned to shave with when a boy? It was my 
father’s — an old-styled one, called a ‘ pipe 
razor.’ There was never a better made. I 
found it in that shack just now.” 

The two boys stared but asked no questions. 

A few minutes later, while the Professor was 
gone for a bucket of water, the boys held a 
brief consultation. It’s all right to search the 
island,” said Johnny; ''I don’t like the idea of 
owning up we’re beaten myself, but how about 
those natives ? ” 

It’ll be pretty bad if they once land,” said 


190 White Fire 

Pant, but perhaps we can prevent them from 
landing/’ 

I don’t see how. We couldn’t attack them 
before they had done us any harm.” 

'' No, we couldn’t, but there may be a way to 
stop them. Time enough to think about that 
once they come in sight.” 

'"And then there’re those chaps who claim the 
wreck belongs to them.” Johnny’s gaze wan- 
dered far out to sea, as if he expected to catch 
sight of a coil of smoke drifting there. If 
they weathered the storm, they’ll soon be down 
upon us.” 

Can’t do anything about that, either, until 
it happens,” said Pant. 

'' All right then, we’ll take up the search. I 
fancy the Professor will want to be one of the 
searching party. Will you stay with the camp, 
or shall I?” 

I’ll stay.” 

'' Say,” said Pant, a moment later, '' it’s funny 
about that razor he found ! ” 

‘‘Yes, it is. Probably his brother had it on 


The Mystery Deepens 


191 


board, and this sailor, or whoever he is, this 
survivor, took it otf and has been using it/’ 
Maybe so,” said Pant in a skeptical tone of 
voice. ‘‘ Seamen are very superstitious about 
razors belonging to dead men, though.” If he 
thought any further along that line, he at least 
said no more about it at that time. 

Several hours later, just as the two searchers 
were returning from a long and fruitless tramp 
over the island, and were being cheered by the 
odor of coffee boiling over an open fire. Pant 
suddenly pointed to the open sea. 

There they come ! ” he cried. 

Low on the horizon there appeared three long, 
low sailing vessels. 

Natives ! ” said Johnny in dismay. 

That’s what,” agreed Pant ; and what’s 
more, we’ve got to do something about it 
quickly or they’ll be swarming ashore with mur- 
der in their eyes. We’ve got to get to the 
plane.” 

''Will you go along?” asked Pant, pausing 
to address the Professor. 


192 


White Fire 


'' I thank you/’ said the Professor. “ I don’t 
blame you for seeking safety. As for myself, 
I shall stay here until I have succeeded in prov- 
ing certain conclusions I have come to, or else 
have disproved them.” 

The boys rushed on down to the beach, then 
pushing the canvas boat off, rowed rapidly to- 
ward the Dust Eater.” 

'' I am afraid,” said Pant, that our profes- 
sor friend doesn’t understand us very well.” 

^^And I fear I don’t understand this move 
very well, myself.” 

You will shortly.” They had arrived at the 
seaplane. You take the wheel; I’ll stay in the 
cabin.” 

Though surprised that he should be requested 
to fly the plane, Johnny asked no questions, but, 
taking his place before the wheel, set the engines 
in motion and soon found himself gliding out 
over the sea. 

Sail straight out over them,” ordered Pant 
through the tube, then hover there as best 
you can. Not too high though.” 


The Mystery Deepens 


193 


Johnny followed instructions and was soon 
directly above the three large canoes. He could 
see the natives plainly. There were twenty or 
more of them in a canoe. Great, swarthy fel- 
lows they were, dressed in all manner of ap- 
parel, from a full suit of white duck to a mere 
breech cloth. They were heavily armed. 
Johnny was a little startled to note that many 
of them carried rifles. The plane was not out 
of range of a good rifle. The natives, appar- 
ently stupefied at the appearance of this gi- 
gantic bird, were staring upward, making no 
movement. Even their paddles were idle. 

Presently a wisp of smoke rose from one of 
their canoes. 

“ That’s strange,” Johnny thought to him- 
self. 

The native nearest the spot leaped to one 
side, and there were frantic efforts to quench 
the little fire that had started in the side of the 
boat. While this was being accomplished, how- 
ever, with all the natives bunched at that end 
of the boat, a second fire broke out in the other 


194 


White Fire 


end of this canoe. This fire gained some head- 
way before it was discovered. The boat began 
to leak. The natives flew into a panic. Some 
of them leaped overboard and swam toward 
the other canoes. 

When a third blaze appeared in the boat a 
panic followed. Every native in the canoe for- 
sook her. Plunging into the sea, they made 
haste to reach the remaining boats. 

Pant looked down with interest while the 
burning boat, now in full blaze, sent flashes of 
light across the water. 

When the last survivor of this strange wreck 
at sea was aboard the remaining boats, these 
crafts turned rightabout. Every oar and pad- 
dle was set doing double time to carry them 
out of these mysterious and terrible waters. 

Good thing it happened,’" said Pant. 

Don’t think we could have trusted them.” 

Not if the sample of knife-throwing they 
gave me was any sign,” Johnny replied. He 
was greatly relieved. 

Might as well go back now and join the 


The Mystery Deepens 195 

Professor again in his search/’ said Pant. 
‘‘ Hope we can make it snappy, though. That 
steamer’ll be along any minute now.’’ 

‘‘ I’d like to know where those chests are, 
and what’s in them,” said Johnny. 

“ So would L” 

Slowly the Dust Eater ” settled down upon 
the waters of the bay. A few minutes later 
they were sitting about the fire, making plans 
for the night’s watch and the morning’s re- 
newal of the search. 

Clouding up. Looks like storm,” said Pant 
suddenly. 

Hope it doesn’t bring those black boys back 
to us,” said Johnny, wrinkling his brow. 

Before Johnny went to sleep he thought in 
some wonder of one experience of that day, of 
the burning of the native canoe. He could not 
help but connect that up with other incidents: 
the white fire in the factory and the burning of 
the automobile in the desert. Had Pant been 
at the bottom of all these things? If he had 
been, what strange new power did he possess? 


196 


White Fire 


After that he thought for a time of their 
own problems. Would they ever return to the 
factory to report the complete success of the 
new steel and of the dust-burning engines? 
And would he ever analyze the contents of that 
vial in the factory laboratory? Of one thing 
he was certain, and he smiled grimly as he 
thought of it: they were not likely to be both- 
ered by their ancient enemy, the contortionist, 
on this desert island. 


CHAPTER XIV 
A STRANGE LIFE BOAT 

It was night, a night of storm. The wind 
had come sweeping in from the sea, bringing 
rain and rolling waves. It was not a typhoon, 
but a straight-on nor’wester of great violence. 
By the aid of an improvised capstan, the two 
boys had dragged the Dust Eater ’’ high up 
on the beach, and, with ropes and wooden 
stakes had guyed her there. 

The storm was now at its height. The wind 
set the dark clumps of palms swishing and 
moaning in a dismal fashion. Great sheets of 
rain beat against Johnny’s face as, wrapped to 
the chin in a slicker, he went from the cabin 
close to the cliff where they had taken refuge, 
down to the beach, to make sure that the guys 
to the plane were holding firm. 

When he had assured himself that all was 
197 


198 


White Fire 


well, he paused for a moment to gaze out to 
sea. He was half afraid that the two native 
boats had not reached their harbor before the 
storm broke. 

Keeping them off this island is one thing, 
driving them into the teeth of a storm another; 
wouldn’t want to be responsible for their 
deaths,” he mumbled. Then he started. 

What’s that? Alight?” 

There had come a lull in the storm. The 
rain had ceased. It seemed to him that, as he 
strained his eyes to gaze seaward, he made out 
a light. Now appearing, now disappearing, it 
seemed to be upon some craft bobbing up and 
down with the waves that were rolling high. 

‘‘ Can’t be the natives. No canoe could ride 
this storm. It might be — ” This second 
thought sent him burring across the beach to- 
ward the cabin. His companions were asleep, 
but this was important; he would waken them. 

They’re taking an awful risk,” he explained 
to Pant and the Professor, a few moments 
later, as they stood upon the brow of the cliff 


199 


A Strange Life Boat 

watching the now unmistakable light of a ship 
out to sea. They Ve too close in now for 
safety. Shoals out there, and it seems to me 
they’re coming closer.” 

Lost their bearings,” suggested Pant. 

Think a beacon fire would help ? ” asked 
the Professor. 

Probably would only mislead them,” said 
Johnny. Besides, I think it’s rather too late. 
Unless I mistake their position, they’re due to 
go aground any minute.” 

With strained and expectant faces the three 
stood watching the bobbing light. Now it 
appeared, now it was lost to sight, but at each 
new appearance it seemed to gleam more 
brightly, as if coming nearer. 

They were troubled by this new turn of af- 
fairs. There could be little doubt but this was 
the ship they had seen struggling in the grip 
of the typhoon, the ship which had come to 
dismantle the wreck. If she went aground, it 
would be their duty to assist the unfortunate 
sailors in every way possible, yet, in doing so. 


200 


White Fire 


they would doubtless be bringing disaster down 
upon their own heads. These were rough, un- 
scrupulous men. They would at once suspect 
the two boys and the Professor of treachery. 
After that, what would happen? Who could 
tell? Yet, they were men and, in time of dis- 
aster, they must be given every assistance. 

The three of them had scarcely thought this 
through, each in his own way, when Johnny 
exclaimed suddenly: 

'' There she goes ! ’’ 

They caught their breath and waited. The 
light had disappeared. For a moment they 
looked in vain for it; then it reappeared, rose 
higher than ever before, then hung gleaming 
there like a fixed star. 

Hard aground!’’ exclaimed Johnny. 

‘^And likely to break up at any minute,” 
answered Pant. 

A moment later there burst out above the 
ship a ball of fire, then another and another. 

Sending up rockets,” said Pant. '' I won- 
der how they expect to get aid from these deso- 


A Strange Life Boat 201 

late shores? No ship could come near them 
without going aground. No lifeboat could ride 
such a sea.’' 

“And yet,” said Johnny, “ we must try to 
give them assistance. If we don’t there’ll not 
be a man of them alive by morning. Their ship 
is out where the breakers are rolling strongest, 
not sheltered by the point, as the Chinese ship 
was.” 

“ It’s true,” said the Professor, “ we must 
render them some assistance, but how?” 

“ The ‘ Dust Eater,’ ” said Johnny. 

“ Couldn’t ride that sea, even if she could 
the storm,” said Pant. “ What’s your idea ? ” 

“ Might not work,” said Johnny, “ but in 
times like these, anything’s worth trying. 
C’m’on.” 

They hastened down to the beach where the 
“ Dust Eater ” was straining at her moorings. 

“ You and the Professor prop up the boat 
and set the wheels under her, while I work at 
something else,” said Johnny. 

He rushed into the cabin of the “ Dust 


202 


White Fire 


Eater to return at once with two great balls 
of stoiit hempen twine. This was a reserve 
supply to be used for lashing the wings of 
the plane in case of accident. 

There were quantities of drift timber from 
the wreck of the Chinese craft scattered about 
on the beach. After gathering up several of 
these, Johnny began splitting them into pieces 
a foot in length and about the size of a broom 
handle. These, as fast as he had split them, he 
tied into one end of a ball of cord, leaving a 
space of six or more feet between each two. 
When he had worked at this for some time, 
he at last turned to his companions. 

The ‘‘Dust Eater’’ was supplied with' a set 
of starting wheels which might be attached to 
the beam of her boatlike body. These were 
for use only when an emergency made it neces- 
sary to take a start-off from land. Such an 
emergency was now at hand. Whether, with 
the gale blowing, they would be able to make a 
successful flight, remained to be seen. They 
were now in a position to make the attempt, 


A Strange Life Boat 203 

for Pant and the Professor had completed 
their task. 

Now each of you go to a guy behind her 
and loosen it, but do not let go,’’ said Johnny. 
He stepped forward and loosened the two in 
front. 

'' Take a snub ’round a stake,” he cautioned, 
as an afterthought. ‘‘Are you ready? There’s 
two balls of twine on the beach there. I’ve 
tied some sticks to one end of one of them. 
The other end of that one is tied to an end of 
the second one. I’m taking the end with the 
sticks on in with me. When we get away. Pro- 
fessor, you must attempt to play the line out 
to us as we fly. Don’t let it break if you can 
help it. We’re going to try to take them a line. 
They must have rope enough to reach shore, 
and pulleys to make a flying car. We can get 
them ashore if it works. Do you get that?” 

“ Yes,” came the answer. 

Johnny nodded approval. 

“All right. Pant, give your guy rope to the 
Professor. Keep it snubbed, though.” 


204 White Fire 

Pant, understanding his part, climbed into the 
pilot’s seat. 

Now, Professor, ease away. Give her the 
dust,” he breathed to Pant. 

The engine thundered. They were away 
with the storm. A wild circle brought them 
perilously near the cliff, but they missed it. 

Johnny felt the slowly growing strain on the 
cord and knew that the Professor was succeed- 
ing with his task. 

'' Right over her, if you can,” said Johnny. 

The wind caught them, nearly dashing them 
into the sea. The line tangled with the braces, 
but Johnny managed to drag it free. 

Now, now — right over ! ” shouted Johnny. 
The next moment he sent the wood-weighted 
end of the cord whirling toward the ship. The 
line burned his fingers, but he clung to it as it 
played out. 

It was a fortunate cast; almost a miracle, 
was Johnny’s mental comment, for at once he 
felt a tug on the cord such as mere water could 
not give, and that instant he let go. 


A Strange Life Boat 205 

‘‘ Can^t help but find it” he told Pant 
through the tube. Back to the island now. 
It’ll take all of us to draw their line in.” 

It was a difficult landing. The beach was 
narrow and none too long; the waves washing 
it from end to end. Three times they soared 
low, but did not dare attempt it. The fourth 
time, driving straight against the wind, they 
sank lower and lower, at last to feel the wel- 
come bump-bump on the sand. The next mo- 
ment they were out of the plane and guying her 
fast. 

Made it ! ” was Johnny’s brief comment, as 
they finished. Now for that line.” 

Pant did not follow at once; he was looking 
intently out to sea, where a light was blinking, 
brightening, then dimming, then lighting up 
again. 

“Get that?” he shouted to Johnny. 

“ What?” 

“ It’s a signal. The message they sent says, 
‘ Haul away !’ ” 

“That’s good. That means they have our 


206 


White Fire 


line. We can’t haul a heavy wet rope across 
the water and up the cliff by hand; have to 
have a capstan for that. Guess the one we 
used this evening will do.” 

Finding the capstan, they dragged it up the 
side of the cliff. Here they anchored it firmly. 
Then began the task of pulling in the line. It 
came in quite freely at first; Johnny was be- 
ginning to think the cord had broken, when the 
back-pull began to stiffen. 

Got ’em all right,” he panted, as they re- 
doubled their efforts. 

Fathom after fathom the line was reeled in. 
So tight grew the strain that they felt sure it 
must break. But it did not. Presently they 
came to a knot and the end of a heavier line. 

Attaching this to the capstan, they reeled in 
rapidly until they came to the place where the 
line was double, the added strand much larger 
than the other. 

^^Big one’s for the pulley to ride on; the 
little one’s to pull them in by,” explained Pant. 
^^Now, all together, let’s draw her tight!” 


A Strange Life Boat 207 

Round and round went the capstan. Up — 
up — up rose the dripping rope until, at last, 
it swung entirely free from the sea. 

Seizing a lantern, Pant alternately dimmed 
and brightened it. This he repeated several 
times. 

‘‘ Giving them the signal for O. K/’ he ex- 
plained. 

He then watched their light as it dimmed 
and brightened. 

They say,’’ he smiled, ‘ Haul away.’ ” 

This time by hand they reeled in the smaller 
cord. Length after length of it was drawn in 
and coiled on the rocks. When, for a moment, 
there was a heavy back-pull, they knew that 
the men on the swaying rope-hung pulley had 
been dipped beneath a giant wave. They re- 
doubled their efforts, and presently had the 
pleasure of seeing five half-drowned men drop 
down by a line from the pulley to the sandy 
beach. 

This time it was Pant’s turn to signal 

Heave away.” 


208 


White Fire 


The signal was obeyed. The swinging car 
was hauled back and loaded once more with 
human freight. 

This was repeated over and over again until 
the last man was ashore. When this last man 
cupped his hands and shouted up to them, "‘All 
safe,’’ the two boys dropped down upon the 
rocks exhausted. 

“Well,” said Johnny, after a time, “we’ve 
got them. Question is, what are we going to 
do with them? ” 

“ More than likely it is, " What are they go- 
ing to do with us?’” grumbled Pant. “There 
are twenty or more of them to our three. Their 
ship is a hopeless wreck. It will, half of it, be 
on the beach in pieces by morning. We have 
the only means of transportation. The only 
way to leave the island is by plane. Question 
is, what will they do about that?” 

It was, indeed, a serious situation. Johnny’s 
brow wrinkled as he took in the full signifi- 
cance of it. 

“ Might as well go down and mingle with 


A Strange Life Boat 


209 


them/’ he said, presently. There’s no better 
way to judge of a man’s character than by lis- 
tening to what he says in the dark.” 

They found the men rough and boisterous. 
Some of them were smashing up all available 
timber and building fires under the brow of the 
cliff. Others had crowded the little cabin to an 
unbearable degree. 

Pant and Johnny crept into a dark corner 
beneath the cliff and facing a blazing fire. 

“ Pretty rough,” was Johnny’s only com- 
ment. 

Soon he became conscious of the presence of 
a little man who appeared to stand aloof from 
the others. He was a clean, decent appearing 
fellow. 

'' Pretty close one,” Johnny said, by way of 
starting conversation. 

The little man turned and gave him a sharp 
look. 

"‘You from that airplane?” 

Yes.” 

I’ll say it was close.” The man lowered his 


210 


White Fire 


voice. Wouldn't 'ave 'appened but they was 
quarrelin’ over 'ow they'd divide the plunder, 
them officers was." 

‘‘The plunder?" said Johnny. 

“Yes, didn't you know?" the sailor whis- 
pered. “That wreck don't belong to them. It 
belonged to a company in China. The captain 
of 'er fergot to set a line to 'er and attach it 
to the shore, as is the law of the sea, so she's 
fair salvage to those 'as gets to 'er first — just 
plunder. I'd call it." 

“ But they claimed her." 

“ Sure, so's no other ship wouldn't come 
fer 'er. They was sharp ones, them officers ! " 

“And worse than I thought," said Johnny. 

“Worse, did you say? They're a 'ard lot. 
Know what they done to me? Shanghaied me, 
they did. ‘Ere I is in the 'arbor with no money 
and no place to sleep, and they says to me, 
‘ Sleep in the ship. We can't sail fer four 
days,' an' that night, up they 'eaves anchor and 
out to sea they blows, an' me a-sleepin' sound. 
That's 'ow they ships me. An' no agreement 


A Strange Life Boat 


211 


to pay ’er nothin’. Say,” he whispered, ‘'if 
they’s a show-down, or anything, between you 
and them, you count me in on your side. But 
don’t you fight them if you can ’elp it, fer, as I 
say, they’s a ’ard lot.” 

Johnny thanked him, then lay for a time lis- 
tening to the low murmur of voices. At last 
he fell into a half-sleep from which he awak- 
ened to find that day was breaking. 

He scrambled down from the rocks to the 
beach. There he met a short, broad-shouldered 
man with beady rat-like eyes. 

“ I’m Captain Hicks,” said the stranger. 
“That your seaplane?” 

“ Yes,” Johnny answered, trying to smile. 

“ Fine plane. Luck, I call it. Our purser is 
a licensed pilot. Soon’s weather dears. I’ll have 
him take me over to another island in that 
plane.” 

Johnny gasped. He was about to protest. 
Then the hopelessness of the situation came 
to him. 

“ I suppose,” he said slowly, “ that he is ac- 


212 


White Fire 


customed to handling all kinds of motors? '' 

Knows ’em like a book/’ the captain chuck- 
led as he passed on. 

‘‘All the same,” said Pant, some time later, 
when he had been told of the conversation, 
“ I’ll wager he’ll have some difficulty in getting 
old ‘ Dust Eater ’ to perform for him. These 
dust-eatin’ birds are particular who rides on 
their backs ! ” 


CHAPTER XV 
THE CHESTS ARE FOUND 

The storm passed over with the rising sun; 
the clouds scurried away, the wind went down, 
and the sun set the ocean, the shore and the 
tree-tops all aglitter with a million diamonds. 
It seemed fortunate that there was to be no 
prolonged uncertainty about the future, yet 
the boys dreaded to face the conflict which 
manifestly lay before them. 

The beach was strewn with drift from the 
lately wrecked vessel. Hardly a vestige of the 
ship was left to mark the spot where it had 
gone aground. The wreck of the Chinese ship, 
however, was still standing, the point having 
sheltered it from the force of the waves. 

Seamen were at once busy salvaging eat- 
ables from the wreckage. Various barrels, 
boxes and casks, containing beef, pilot-bread, 
213 


214 


White Fire 


tea, coffee, cheese and like commodities, which 
would prove invaluable if there was to be a 
prolonged stay on the island, were piled on the 
shore. 

Here, you. Lend a hand,’’ the captain 
shouted to a knot of men. 

The bay was quiet now. His purser, the 
former air pilot, had had the landing-wheels 
removed from the Dust Eater.” They were 
prepared to launch her. 

That captain is a rotter,” said Pant. He 
and his purser would go off and leave us all 
here to starve if they could.” 

Very confident of his ability, the usurping 
pilot took his place before the wheel as the 
seamen prepared to shove the plane into the 
water. 

Johnny Thompson had been looking on with 
interest when, all at once, his eye was caught 
by a stranger who had silently joined the group 
that stood about. He wore an oriental cos- 
tume, yet he was a white man. 

Johnny started. At first he thought it was 


The Chests Are Found 


215 


the Professor who had garbed himself in the 
clothing left in the cabin while his own clothing 
dried. But instantly he knew he was wrong; 
this man’s face was too brown and too much 
seamed to be that of the Professor. 

Like a flash, the truth dawned upon him: 
This was the Professor’s brother. He had not 
been drowned at the time of the wreck of the 
Chinese ship, but had, somehow, saved himself 
after the others had been picked up by the pass- 
ing steamer. It had been he who had built the 
cabin by the cliff. That explained the presence 
of the razor in the cabin. It explained, too, the 
mystery of the missing chests; he had brought 
them ashore and had hidden them somewhere 
on the island. 

He had been hiding out, but, on seeing the 
ship wrecked the previous night, had doubtless 
decided to cast his lot with these marooned 
men. 

He did not have long to wait for the proof 
that at least some of these conclusions were 
correct, for almost instantly the Professor, 


216 


White Fire 


turning, saw the stranger. For a second his 
face went white and he seemed about to fall. 
He recovered himself and sprang forward, and 
the two men embraced one another, like two 
children who had been a long time separated. 

But now Johnny’s attention was attracted by 
a suppressed laugh from the men about him, 
who had been watching the new pilot in his 
attempt to start the Dust Eater.” As he 
looked, he saw that the man’s face was as black 
as it might have been had he smeared it with 
burnt cork. 

What had happened was that having at- 
tempted to start the engine, and having failed, 
he had climbed back to the fuel tank and there 
had unscrewed the top, thinking to see if there 
was gasoline in it. In attempting to look in- 
side, he had put his face too close to the open- 
ing, had blown into it, and the feathery coal 
dust with which the boys had filled the tank 
had risen up in a cloud to besmirch his damp 
visage. 

The purser was in a fine rage. He ordered 


The Chests Are Found 217 

the sailor who had rowed him out to the Dust 
Eater ” in the canvas boat to take him ashore. 
Once his feet touched the beach, he came rac- 
ing toward Johnny and Pant. 

Leave this to me,’’ said Pant You and 
the Professor quietly drop out of the bunch, 
and then make your way to the north end of 
the island as quickly as possible.” 

He had hardly said this than the purser was 
upon him: 

Smart trick! ” he snarled. Thought you’d 
balk us. Took out the gasoline and filled the 
tank with coal dust I ” He seemed about to 
strike Pant. 

With a tiger-like spring. Pant leaped back. 

Better not.” His voice was low, like the 
warning hiss of a panther. 

The purser hesitated. 

Let me tell you something,” Pant said 
evenly. ‘‘ There isn’t a drop of gasoline on 
this island as far as I know; not a drop in thaf 
plane, either, but all the same, she’ll fly for a 
man who understands her. 


218 


White Fire 


Now, ril tell you what,’’ he went on. You 
come over to the plane with me. Look her all 
over. See if there is any gasoline on her. 
Then you let me try to get her going. See if 
I can’t do it.” 

''All right.” The other man’s smile showed 
his incredulity. 

Together in the canvas boat they went out 
to the plane. Carefully the purser looked the 
plane over, then expressing himself satisfied 
that there was no gasoline on board, he seated 
himself carelessly astride the fuselage, and with 
a mock-smile, said: 

"All right. Let’s see you start her.” 

Pant dropped silently into his seat. This 
was his chance. If he could make a clean get- 
away all would be well. Johnny and the Pro- 
fessor would be waiting at the north end of the 
island. He would pick them up and they would 
fly away. They would report the wreck of the 
steamer at the nearest port and leave the rest 
to the American consul. 

Catching a quick breath, he touched a but- 


The Chests Are Found 219 

ton, then pulled a lever. At once the engine 
thundered. They were moving. 

Now a little quick work,” he whispered to 
himself. 

He whirled about, and with one swing of his 
powerful arm pitched the astonished purser 
from the fuselage into the sea. The next in- 
stant the plane rose gracefully from the water. 
He was away. 

The purser came up sputtering, to swim for 
the shore. The captain roared at Pant, com- 
manding him in the name of all things he knew 
to stop. Bullets from a seaman’s rifle sang 
over his head, but all these arguments were 
lost on him. He was on his way. 

Taking a wide circle, that he might give his 
companions time to arrive at the meeting-place, 
he at last swung back to the end of the island. 

To his surprise, as he eased the plane down 
into the water, he saw, not two men, but four, 
awaiting him. Besides his two companions, 
there was the Professor’s brother and the little 
shanghaied English sailor. 


220 


White Fire 


There was no time for demanding and re- 
ceiving explanations; not even when he saw 
four large chests piled on the rocky shore did 
Pant ask a question. The canvas boat had been 
fastened to the '' Dust Eater” ; it was still 
there. Righting this, he pulled for the shore. 
The chests were quickly tied together, and the 
men loaded into the boat. Then, with the line 
of chests following in their wake, they pulled 
back to the plane. 

The lashing of the chests, two back and two 
before the cabin, consumed time. When this 
was done. Pant tumbled into his seat, the other 
four piled, pell-mell, into the cabin; the motors 
thundered and they were away. 

They were not a moment too soon, for the 
captain, suspecting the move, had ordered fiis 
men to race to the end of the island. Just as 
the Dust Eater” rose, graceful as a swan, out 
of the water, the first man appeared at the top 
of the cliff. 

'' Close one ! ” grumbled Pant through the 
tube. 


The Chests Are Found 


221 


Safe enough now, though,’’ sighed Johnny. 

Their journey to a port on the largest island 
of the scattered group was made in safety. 
The wreck was reported ; then the Dust 
Eater ” was loaded aboard a steamer bound for 
San Francisco. They were to have a safer if 
not a more eventful journey home. 

It was only after the four chests had been 
safely stowed away in a large stateroom aboard 
the steamer that Johnny and Pant were let into 
the secret of their contents. Then, with his 
brother by his side, the medical missionary un- 
locked one of the chests and lifted the lid. 

The two boys leaned forward eagerly. 

What they saw first was nothing more than 
sawdust. The missionary put his hand into 
this sawdust, and drew out a half-gallon can. 
This can had a small screw top. This he took 
off, and, having poured a little of the contents 
into the palm of his hand, held it out for the 
boys’ inspection. 

Oh ! ” exclaimed Johnny in surprise. '' Do 
you men to tell us that we have gone through 


222 


White Fire 


all this to save four chests of oil?” 

‘‘ But wait,” said the Professor quickly. 
‘‘ This is no ordinary oil. It is Russian naptha- 
lan. It is worth at the present moment, a 
dollar and a half an ounce. There are sixty- 
four ounces in that can, seventy-five cans to 
the chest, and four chests. Figure for your- 
self its value. But money,” he went on in a 
very serious tone, ‘‘is not the principal reward. 
It never is. There are in America today tens 
of thousands of children suffering from a ter- 
rible skin disease. They have no relief. A 
salve, of which this oil is the base, will at once 
relieve their condition, and in time will cure 
them. To save these children, is this not a cause 
for which one might gladly risk his life many 
times? ” 

“ It is,” said Johnny with conviction. “ I am 
glad we came.” In this expression he was 
quickly seconded by Pant. 

Later that evening, after the moon had 
spread a long yellow streamer across the 
waters, Johnny and Pant sat in steamer chairs 


The Chests Are Found 223 

side by side silently gazing across the sea. 
Each was busy with his own thoughts. Johnny 
was going over the events of the past few 
months. In these months many mysteries had 
leaped out of the unknown to stare him in the 
face and challenge his wits to find their an- 
swers. Some had been solved; others remained 
yet to be solved. There was the white fire of 
the factory which had worked such wonders 
with steel and, closely associated with that, 
were the fires that had started, apparently 
without cause, on the red racer in the desert 
and the savages’ canoe. These remained mys- 
teries, as did the problem of the composition 
of the new steel. He wondered still if the vial 
he had put away on the upper shelf of the lab- 
oratory in the factory could possibly add some 
light to this problem. 

Of two things he was certain: The dust- 
burning motor was a complete success and the 
blue steel was the most marvelous steel ever 
invented. He hoped that Pant and he would 
not now be long in revealing these facts to 


224 


White Fire 


those most interested. They would delight the 
heart of their employer and would bring great 
joy to the aged inventor of the motor. 

First, though, they must return from the 
coast to the factory with their machine. He 
hoped that, by this time, they had succeeded in 
shaking the contortionist ofiF their trail. 

But you never can tell,” he whispered to 
himself. 

As if his mind had been working on these 
very problems. Pant said suddenly: 

'' We’ll take the boat rigging off the ^ Dust 
Eater ’ when we reach the Golden Gate and rig 
her up with landing wheels. Then we’ll fly 
home. What do you say? ” 

Looks like the best plan,” said Johnny. 
'^That’ll give the motors one more try-out and 
us another thrill.” 

Had he known the kind of thrill it was going 
to be, he would doubtless have favored ship- 
ping the plane by freight. 


CHAPTER XVI 
A RACE IN MID-AIR 


Johnny Thompson was happy; he thought he 
had never been so happy in his life. They were 
on their last lap home. The flight over the 
Rockies and across the Great American Desert, 
then over the vast prairies, had been accom- 
plished with ease and pleasure. In a few hours 
they would be dropping down to the landing 
field at the factory. 

I only hope the inventor has come to him- 
self enough to tell them the secret formula,’’ 
he mumbled to himself. He was thinking of 
the new process steel and again, for the hun- 
dredth time, the vial in the laboratory flashed 
through his mind. 

Guess I should have told them,” he mused. 
‘‘ Might be something in it. Might be — ” 
Pant’s signal at the speaking tube broke in 
on his reflections. 


225 


226 


White Fire 


Plane to our larboard aft/' be called. Big 
blue one with wide planes. Looks like a racer/' 

Johnny started. What plane could this be? 
They were not in a region frequented by air- 
planes, nor in the path of an air mail line. But 
then, he reassured himself, planes were com- 
mon enough the country over. 

He could not, however, shake off at once the 
sense of fear that gripped him. He had not 
forgotten their mad race across the desert, nor 
his narrow escape on the mountain lake. A 
race in an airplane might not end happily, es- 
pecially with him at the wheel. 

His mind became at ease presently, and he 
again took up the thread of thought that had 
been broken off. Should this day's work be 
completed in safety, tKeir days of thrills and 
dangers would, for a time at least, be over. 

“ Seem to be following us," broke in Pant 
again. ^‘Man, but they've got some speed! 
Let her out a notch or two." 

The plane seemed fairly to leap from beneath 
them as Johnny, obeying instructions, ''let her 


A Race in Mid-Air 


227 


out.” She was a good, substantial plane, of 
the type that is destined to become the express- 
carrier of tomorrow, but she was not of the 
fastest model. 

Johnny risked a glance back. Pant seemed 
to be fumbling at something near his belt be- 
neath his heavy leather coat. 

If he were only up here at the wheel ! ” 
Johnny groaned. 

Drop down a few hundred feet,” suggested 
Pant. If it’s necessary, we might make a 
landing.” Johnny tilted her nose groundward. 

As they came closer to earth, they realized at 
once that a landing was impossible; they were 
passing over range after range of low, rolling 
hills. There were no valleys to the crooked 
streams that flowed between the hills. 

Shoot her up again ; better traveling,” sug- 
gested Pant. 

It seemed to Johnny that he could catch the 
thundering throb of the other plane’s engine. 
But this was only imagination. Truth was, 
however, that the other plane was gaining on 


228 


White Fire 


them. Yard by yard they came closer. As the 
miles sped from beneath them, the distance di- 
minished. Now they were a mile away; now 
three-quarters. And now they plunged into a 
great mass of white mist, which was a cloud, 
and were for a time lost to view. 

As they came again into clear sky, Johnny 
gasped. The other plane appeared to have 
doubled her speed. It could be only a matter 
of moments now. What mad thing did those 
fellows mean to attempt? Did they hope to 
force them to the ground? Would they ram 
them? To do so seemed certain death to all. 

They’ve got parachutes ! ” shouted Pant 
through the tube. 

Parachutes? Johnny’s mind was in a panic. 
Perhaps they meant to take to their parachutes 
after ramming the Dust Eater.” 

‘^Johnny!” Pant’s voice was even and com- 
posed, just slow her up a bit and hold her in 
a steady, straight line.” 

“Slow up!” Was Pant mad? The other 
plane must be all but upon them! Without 


A Race in Mid-Air 


229 


question he obeyed. Straight as a chalk line 
they shot on through the blue. 

One minute, two, three, four, five. As 
Johnny counted them on the dial of the clock 
in front of him, he expected at any one of 
them to feel a sudden shock. 

But the shock did not come. 

‘‘As you are,” he heard Pant breathe at last. 
“ No, I think you might circle a bit. Looks 
like we’re over a meadow. Not a bad landing- 
place. They’ve taken to their parachutes. 
Their plane’s on fire, but she’ll carry on a mile 
or two before she drops.” 

“ Their plane’s on fire ! ” Pant had said it 
in such a composed tone of voice that one 
might think it quite the thing to expect at this 
juncture. 

Glancing back, Johnny saw him struggling to 
replace something beneath his leather coat. It 
looked like a long black leather case. 

With trembling hands he set the plane to 
circle downward, to follow the burning plane, 
which was now careening wildly. Some two 


230 


White Fire 


miles back the two parachutes of the others, 
white specks against the blue, were nearing the 
ground. 

We’ll just have a look at their plane and be 
away again before they arrive,” suggested 
Pant. ‘‘Their fuselage is of sheet-steel. It 
won’t burn. There may be something of inter- 
est in the seat or somewhere.” 

Johnny did not fully approve of this ma- 
neuver. Yet, since Pant was in charge of this 
expedition, he proceeded to put the suggestion 
into execution. 

jK Hs 

“ Here’s what I found in that plane.” Pant 
drew some jagged bits of rusty metal from a 
canvas bag. It was four hours after the burn- 
ing of the blue racer. The two boys had made 
a landing near the wreck, and Pant had hur- 
ried over there, to return with two objects 
which he found in the seat: a canvas sack and 
a pair of gloves. 

They were now safe on the landing-field of 
the factory. They were “home.” Their 


A Race in Mid-Air 


231 


journey and its dangers at an end, they were 
resting on the grass for a few moments before 
going to report to their employer. 

‘‘This is all there is left of the bar of new 
process steel they made away with. They tried 
to work it by heating it in the usual way, and 
failed. They found out some way that we were 
trying out some parts made of the steel, and 
were all for running us down and taking it 
away from us.’’ 

Johnny examined the bits of metal carefully. 
‘‘ I believe you’re right,” he answered. 

‘'And these gloves,” said Pant, holding the 
pair up for inspection, “ establish the identity 
of the driver of the blue racer. No one but 
your friend, the contortionist, the frog-man, 
could wear such long-fingered affairs as these. 
“ I suppose,” he said thoughtfully, “ that we 
could have the sheriff out in that country hunt 
those fellows up.” 

“What kind of a case would we have on 
them, though?” smiled Johnny. “The sky’s 
all free property up to date, isn’t it? You can’t 


232 


White Fire 


have a fellow arrested for following you, can 
you?’’ 

I suppose not,” Pant reluctantly admitted. 

Well, anyway, we got their machine.” 

Pant,” said Johnny suddenly, you set that 
airplane on fire.” 

‘‘What?” Pant started and stared. “Well,” 
he said after a few seconds, “what if I did? 
Didn’t do it until they had shown they were 
planning to run us down, and then, not until I 
knew they had parachutes. That was all right, 
wasn’t it?” 

“ Sure it was all right,” smiled Johnny. “ It 
was more than all right — it was good.” 

For a time the two were silent. 

“You set their auto on fire back in the des- 
ert, too,” Johnny resumed. 

“ Sure I did.” 

“ How’d you do it? ” 

The masked look that appeared to hide Pant’s 
face faded. “ I’ll show you, Johnny. Just be- 
cause you’re such a good pal I’ll show you.” 

Detaching from his belt the black leather 


A Race in Mid-Air 


233 


case, which Johnny had seen twice before, he 
walked to the plane and, after attaching two 
wires, started the motor. 

Watch the grass over there a hundred 
feet.’’ 

Suddenly the ground began to smoke, and a 
patch of grass turned to brown, then black. 

Fairly rips up the ground, she does,” Pant 
said with a proud grin. ‘‘There’s a piece of 
gas pipe somebody’s left sticking up in the 
ground over there about three hundred feet. 
Watch that!” 

Johnny watched with popping eyes while a 
foot of the pipe turned first red, then intensely 
white, then toppled over like a weed in a forest 
fire. 

“Pant,” he said breathlessly, “what is it?” 

“ I don’t quite know myself,” Pant smiled, as 
he shut ofif the motor. There’s been a lot of 
things like it. X-ray, violet-ray, radium and 
the like, you know. But this is something I 
got up myself — sort of a cross between fire 
and lightning, near’s I can find out. I’m hav- 


234 


White Fire 


ing it patented, though for the life of me I 
don't know what you'd use it for. You can't 
go around the world setting autos and planes 
on fire when they come up behind you." 

‘'And that," said Johnny, “is the white 
fire?" 

“ Exactly ! I got a lot of fun out of that 
business in the factory. Fooled you, didn't I ? " 

“ Yes, and helped us a lot. That's why you 
didn't stay about when the manager was with 
us?" 

“ Sure it was. I had to go back and get the 
show going." Pant threw back his head and 
laughed. 

“ Well," said Johnny, rising and stretching, 
“ guess we’d better go in and make our report." 

“ Leave that to you," said Pant. “ I'll run 
over and see if my patent papers are at the 
postoffice." 

“And there," said Mr. McFarland, a half- 
hour later, as Johnny sat by the desk in his 
private office, “are a couple of papers you might 
be interested in." 


A Race in Mid-Air 


235 


The instant he had them in his hand Johnny 
recognized his father’s signature. 

Notes,” he murmured, Why, they’re 
marked ‘ Paid in full.’ I — I don’t under- 
stand.” 

You will remember,” said the manager, 
struggling against a huskiness in his voice, 
that your banker told you he held notes 
against your father. He never told you who 
the real owner was. He was acting according 
to orders in doing this. I was the real owner, 
and now — since you have rendered a service 
to our company which more than balances the 
account — I am giving them to you marked 
‘ Paid in full.’ ” 

Johnny’s mind whirled. His good fortune 
seemed too good to be believed. His debt of 
honor was canceled. He might face the world 
with a clean start. 

“I — I,” he stammered, ‘‘ I can’t thank you.” 

There is no occasion,” said the magnate. 
It is a plain business proposition — value for 
value received. 


236 


White Fire 


'' You may be pleased to know/' he hurried 
on, glad to change the subject, that we found 
a glass bottle left in the laboratory by the in- 
ventor, that tells us what the new element in the 
steel is. We have also discovered a method of 
heat treatment which enables us to work the 
metal. We are now in a position to manufac- 
ture engines and utilize this new steel. It will 
be worth millions, and the inventor, who is 
slowly recovering, will receive his share.” 

Johnny was experiencing strange sensations. 

Where,” he managed to ask, did you find the 
bottle which gave you the secret of the form- 
ula?” 

Upper shelf; right-hand corner; central 
laboratory. Why do you ask?” 

For no reason,” said Johnny, a queer smile 
playing about his lips, ‘'except that I guess I 
was the fellow who put that bottle there.” 

He then explained how he had made the test 
at night, to help keep himself awake, and how 
he had not dared to reveal the results for fear 
of being censured. 


A Race in Mid-Air 


237 


They had a good laugh over it, and at the 
end Mr. McFarland said: 

''Just for that you may have the chummy 
roadster which you and Pant drove so far. 
And, by the way, send Pant to me. He must 
have some reward. How do you think he’d 
like the plane you drove ? ” 

" Guess he’d like that O. K.,” smiled Johnny. 
" Thanks for the car. If you’ll allow me, I 
should like to use it driving back and forth 
from your factory to the School of Engineer- 
ing. I’d like to spend a half day in each place. 
There are a lot of things I need to know.” 

"A splendid idea!” said Mr. McFarland. 
And at that Johnny bowed himself out. 

A half hour later he and Pant sat drinking 
coffee and munching doughnuts in the small 
kitchen of the aged inventor of the dust-burn- 
ing motor. They were telling their story to 
the delighted old couple. And that story, bet- 
ter than mere assurance, informed them that 
the invention was a huge success and that they 
were rich. No other pleasure could have so fit- 


238 


White Fire 


tingly crowned this series of adventures than 
did this simple story-telling to two old people 
who appreciated it all as no others could. 

Johnny stuck to his purpose of attending the 
engineering school. He learned there many of 
the secrets of science and industry. The time 
soon came, too, when he might put his knowl- 
edge to work. For, one day, he received a wire 
from Pant, who was again on the Pacific coast 
with the Dust Eater.” 

‘‘ Come at once,” the telegram ran. “ Need 
you. Big new sea mystery. Will explain onr 
arrival.” 

What that mystery was and how they solved 
it must be told in our next volume of mystery 
and adventure, ‘‘The Black Schooner.” 




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